The Black Ankh
by Shadow of Light
Summary: Sequel to The Dark Realm and following after Ultima Underworld 2. Castle Britannia is under attack and most of Britannia in enemy hands from otherworldly invaders, the army of the now dead Mors Gotha. But her replacement isn't far away...
1. Prologue

****

Prologue 

Lord Cantabrigian British, sovereign ruler of Britannia, bent and picked up a shard from the formerly whole stained-glass window that had stood behind his throne. "Hath it occurred to thee, Elora," he asked me, leaning against the parapet, "that most of thine adventures end with thee breaking something?" 

I smiled ruefully. "I hadn't really thought about it, milord. Sorry about the mess." 

"Not at all, Avatar. I..." 

There was a shout from the throne-room behind us, which was quickly followed by the clash of steel. I unhooked the Firedoom axe from my belt and cast a questioning look at my king. 

"I should help the guards take care of the last of the intruders, milord," I said, to which he nodded. 

I stepped through the broken window into the large, pillared throneroom, Lord British following closely. The throne-room was a battlefield as Britannians engaged the Guardian's invaders from Killorn Keep - a place I'd visited through the teleportation gem below the Castle. Blood stained the stone walls and floor and matted the carpet. Here and there, a body sprawled motionless in the green tabard of Britannia or the gold of the Guardian. 

The fight wasn't over. 

Leaping past the ankh-shaped throne, I swung the Firedoom axe and cleaved an enemy's skull, then back-slashed and took out the throat of a second. Almost two months of relying on my own skills against anything from giant rats to the Destroyer Daemon had given me all the combat prowess I needed to dispatch a few hired warriors. 

I caught the sword of a foe against my shield and didn't have time to repay the blow before a blood-smeared sword blade emerged dripping from his chest. Not waiting to see who'd felled him, I spun about, brained another invader and saw six more charging forward from the inner garden. 

"_Syria_!" I shouted. 

The warrior woman appeared at my side, sword out and streaked with crimson as she prepared to meet the oncoming wave. "Yes, Avatar?" 

"Where are they coming from? The sewers under the Castle?" 

"I'm not sure, some might be. The majority are coming from outside - from Britain!" 

I cursed. Had the Guardian's forces overtaken us already? "Stand back." I whirled the axe in a deadly arc and the great ruby in the haft glittered. A devastating blast of fire exploded into the faces of the six invaders, blinding three and incinerating a fourth. 

"Cleaning this up will cost me a fortune," Lord British said in a tightly controlled voice. He stood on my right side and his royal, fur-trimmed cloak was thrown back. One hand gripped a longsword as bloody as Syria's. Before I had time to contemplate more, the capable attackers reached us. 

Weapons whistled through the air and blood flew. The enemies, startled by the flame wind which had lashed their ranks and unable to slow their momentum coming down the carpeted stairs, were quickly killed. 

"Take three guards," Lord British instructed Syria quickly. "Lower the portcullis and raise the drawbridge." 

She nodded and dashed up the steps towards the garden, yelling for three guards to follow. I glanced around quickly, but no one from Killorn Keep was in the throneroom any more. 

"So, we're trapped in the Castle again," I sighed. 

"Hopefully not for long," the king assured me. "If Britain hath been taken, we'll have to think of something before charging out the gate." 

I agreed, then slowly sat down and laid the axe across my knees. I was tired. I was also very sore. No serious wounds, but dozens of minor ones. Although I could take on five, maybe six foes single-handedly, unless magically protected, such an encounter would never leave me unscathed. 

Magic... 

"Richard," I said, catching Lord British's attention. "The Blackrock prison is down...can you use your magic now?" 

The king pointed at me. "Vas Mani!" 

A warmth infused my body and I felt my many wounds heal as the spell washed through me like a cleansing tide. 

"That's a 'yes', I believe," the king smiled, obviously relieved at his restored ability to manipulate the ether. I knew how he felt. 

Sir Dupre entered the room from the garden and saluted the two guards left with Lord British and me before approaching and bowing to his king. "Syria hath done thy bidding, milord," he reported. "But there are still a few intruders running the corridors - we'll get them all soon. Dost thou wish the entrances to the sewers barred?" 

The king nodded. "Lock the doors, lower the portcullis and spare a guard or two for every entrance." 

I took a large key from my keyring and gave it to Dupre. It was the key to one of the sewer doors he'd given to me earlier. With a brief nod of thanks, the knight departed to fulfil his orders. 

Lord British suddenly bent over the corpse of a Britannian guard and intoned, "In Mani Corp!" 

The man sat up and shook himself as if awakening from some dream. Realising what had happened, he stood and bowed low to his king, words of gratitude flowing from his lips. 

Lord British met my gaze, and on seeing his compassionate expression, mixed with regret, I understood. Because of the Blackrock prison, he'd been unable to resurrect Lady Tory or the scholar Nelson - both murdered within the Castle walls. The two had been cremated in secluded places to prevent disease as no one had known how long we'd be without magic, or freedom, or fresh air. 

The king wasn't about to let any more of his people die if he could help it. 

The clack of a crossbow sounded an instant before the Killorn warrior sneaking around the throne toppled with a bolt in his chest. 

Iolo shouldered his crossbow and descended the steps. "Methinks our liege will have enough people to save without adding _thee_ to the list, Elora," he said. 

"I knew he was there." 

Iolo snorted. 

"Seriously! Look, there's another one hiding just outside the window to the left." 

The bard rolled his eyes and reloaded his crossbow. "How many _are_ there?" he muttered in exasperation. 

Lord British restored another of his people to life. "I wish I knew." 

The hiding warrior abruptly appeared in the broken window, then vanished as Iolo shot him and he fell backwards to tumble over the parapet. There was a strangled cry followed by an almighty splash as the man landed in the moat. 

Iolo and I hurried over to look down; he with a second bolt ready to fire. The warrior floundered in the murky water of the moat, then gave a scream as something pulled him under the surface. I could make out the dim outline of one of the kraken that infested the moat just before the water took on a red cast and I turned away. 

"That's sickening," I shuddered. "Whose idea was it to put those monsters in the moat?" 

Shrugging, Iolo replied, "No one seems to know." 

I scanned the city below but couldn't see anyone. "Let's go to the southern wall." 

So we did. Since the Castle gates were there, that's where all the activity was. A horde of gold-tabarded foes bordered the shore of the moat. They waved swords and screamed threats but did little else. 

"It seems they have no ranged weapons," Iolo observed. "No mages either," he added pointedly. 

I grinned, then frowned. "No, I won't cast any spells yet." 

"Why not?" 

"Why don't _you_ fire at them?" 

"I'm saving my bolts for when we might need...oh." His brow furrowed. "I understand." 

We walked up to where Syria and her guards stood beside a cannon. 

"Ah, Avatar," she said briskly. "How are we going on the inside?" 

"Sir Dupre thinks we've just about flushed out any leftovers," I told her. "The sewer doors are being locked and guarded until we decide what to do next." 

She nodded. "Any idea what that might be?" 

I shook my head wearily. "No...unless our lord means to send me back down to that dimensional gem. It's possible that it's still there." 

Iolo said, "If only we hadn't returned the Virtue Stones to the museum! We'd have been able to use them to teleport out of here!" 

"If I may..." I stepped past Syria, looked down at the beginnings of an army and shouted, "Who leads?" 

"The answer came from hundreds of throats. "_Mors Gotha_!" 

"Mors Gotha is dead! I killed her myself." 

"Mors Gotha lives!" someone yelled. 

"Mors Gotha! Mors Gotha!" the warriors chanted, banging swords against shields. 

I turned to a guard. "Take a friend and find the body of Mors Gotha. She should be in the east wing near Nystul's quarters. Bring her here." 

Syria asked, "How good was she? With a sword, I mean." 

I regarded the warriors below. "Not good enough." 

After a minute or two, Dupre mounted the stairs. "Lord British is calling a meeting in the war hall," he said, jerking a thumb over his shoulder. It had been called such since the Castle had been encased in the Blackrock. Tables and chairs put there for the celebration of the anniversary of the Black Gate's destruction had been cleared of food and covered with scrolls. "As soon as possible." 

Iolo, Syria and I nodded. When Dupre left, Iolo said, "He didn't look too happy." 

"He's probably figured out that our lord isn't likely to lift the rationing of the Castle's ale supply now," I replied, trying hard not to smirk. The knight was a dear friend and I couldn't resist a dig at his bad habits every once in a while. 

Syria made an indelicate sound. "I could drink him under the table anytime." 

The guard reappeared with his companion and the body of Mors Gotha, former leader of the Guardian's forces. With them, came Julia. 

"I had to identify the body for them," she explained as the corpse was lowered to the ground. 

"Are you okay?" I asked her. "You were wounded before." 

"Nystul healed me," she answered, giving Mors Gotha a kick in the side. "Fortunately, she wasn't very stealthy with all that armour and as a tinker, I was alert." She hesitated. "Alert enough not to get killed." 

One of the guards was crouched beside the body. "Excuse me, Avatar...methinks thou hadst best see this." He pointed at the strange bracer Mors Gotha had on her right wrist. 

What caught my attention first was not that the armband was made of clear crystal, nor that it was studded by a kingdom's wealth of translucent jewels, but that it bore a black gem the size of my thumbnail which reflected no light from its facets. Instead, an inky mist had risen from it and was sluggishly moving across Mors Gotha's body towards the gaping hole in her chest. 

With a strangled gasp, I knelt, tore the bracer off and threw it several feet down the rampart. The thing clattered across the stones and, unbroken, lay there. I watched the sinister mist disperse then told the others not to go near it. Syria and Julia looked confused, but Iolo seemed concerned. 

"Elora..." he began. 

I shook my head, but changed my mind and said, "What?" 

"That can't be the Black Jewel of Mondain...can it?" 

"No!" I exclaimed, a bit forcefully. "No," I repeated. "The Black Jewel is gone." I looked at the crystalline bracer. "This is something different, but similar." I turned my back on the thing, not wishing to remember the stone that had almost turned me, the saviour of Britannia, into the destroyer of Britannia. "Hold her body up so they can see it," I instructed the guards. 

Mors Gotha was lifted above the battlements and an insane cheering began from the army below. It went on for a full minute before they realised that they had been cheering a corpse. Disbelieving silence was quickly supplanted by angry mutters. 

"Who art thou, who slew the Guardian's appointed leader?" 

I removed my helmet and handed it to Iolo. Standing in clear view of the crowd, I shouted, "I am Elora the Avatar, protector of Britannia!" 

Slowly, like a swelling tide, a new chant started. Its tone was half of fear, half of adoration, and it chilled me even more not knowing what it meant. 

"_Ka-thra! Ka-thra! Ka-thra_!" 


	2. Splinters of Night

Splinters of Night

****

Book One of The Black Ankh 

By Shadow of Light Dragon, aka Laura Campbell   
  


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The daemon that lives inside 

__

your soul 

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Who'll always 'gainst you fight. 

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The heart of darkness that 

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dwells within 

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E'en if one serves the light. 

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Evil; your mortal foe 

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but is 

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It falling to your might? 

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These ebon thorns are 

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yours alone 

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Your Splinters of the Night.

  
  


"...Our only problem will be water," Charles said to those gathered in the hall. "Unless the gem below the Castle is still operational, or we find some other supply, we will run out in two days." 

I shifted in my seat as Charles sat down. During our imprisonment, Dupre had used the dimensional gem to travel to a land of ice caverns I had discovered. The ice had been our supply of water since. 

Nystul, the court mage, got to his feet and pushed the hood of his grey robe back from his white-bearded face. "I was able to speak with Nicodemus through magical means for a while," he told us, motioning for Miranda to unroll a map on the table. Nicodemus was another mage who lived in the northwest near the keep of Empath Abbey. "He was scrying Britannia for all the time we've been trapped here. The three keeps of Empath Abbey, Serpents Hold and the Lycaeum have been hardest struck by the enemy." He tapped the location of each place on the map with a finger and glanced around at all those sitting at the long table. "The Abbey, unfortunately, fell to the enemy. The other two have repelled the attackers for now and are still bottled in like we are now. From what Nicodemus said, Moonglow, Paws, Britain, Cove, Minoc and Vespar are lost to us. Trinsic is hard pressed but its walls hold. Jhelom was struck heavily, but its island state and the skill of its warriors kept it intact. " Syria smiled grimly at this last bit of news. "The islands of Skara Brae were ignored - probably because everyone there is already dead - as was New Magincia, but the Isle of the Avatar hath a large gathering of foes on its shores, as doth Terfin." He looked at Lord British. "Nicodemus hath no idea where the gargoyles went after Draxinusom helped defend Trinsic, Milord. All he knows is that not many humans consented to follow the gargoyles." 

Lord British nodded and the mage sat. Then he looked at Sir Dupre, who stood. 

"We think that no more foes walk the Castle," the knight said. "But be wary - there may be one or two still hiding in the shadows. No one is permitted near the sewer doors unless they carry a royal writ _and _speak a password that will be constantly changed with the guard. Captain Geoffrey and myself alone know the password." He lowered himself to his chair. 

"What's _that _about?" I whispered to him behind my hand. 

"What dost thou mean?" Dupre replied softly. 

"You're not telling me or Richard what the password is?" I asked, flicking my eyes past him to glance at Lord British. 

"'Twill be changed often, Elora. Our Lord hath other things to worry about more than a password - that's why we're here." He flashed me a grin. "To do all the unimportant work for him. Didst thou want the password, too?" 

"I guess not. I can always ask you for it, right?" 

"Only shouldst thou ask nicely," he drawled. 

The sound of a throat being pointedly cleared made me stifle my chuckling. Syria, now certain that she had full attention, made her report. "A fair sized force is at the Castle gates, as ye all can hear," the blonde warrior stated. 

The chant of "_Ka-thra!_" still continued outside, loud enough that we could all hear it. 

"Their leader, one Mors Gotha, reputed best swordfighter ever, is dead and even now entertains the kraken at the bottom of the moat." She paused, one hand resting on the hilt of her sheathed sword. "Whether or not the enemy have taken hostages is unknown. None have been seen or spoken of." She went on a bit about the enemy's lack of firearms, siege weapons and organisation. It appeared that the invaders had expected to swarm the Castle easily first try. 

My turn was next. The king had asked everyone to share any news or ideas they might have. Putting the strange bracer on the table, I stood rather nervously for I'd never really liked being the centre of attention. I said, "I propose a return trip to where the blackrock gem lies." I'd used the present tense deliberately, not wanting anyone to think that this time we were without hope. "The Virtue Stones are not here for us to teleport ourselves with, the Orbs of the Moons no longer function and I wouldn't suggest trying to Blink from the battlements - it's a long way down." Blinking through walls was possible, but difficult to do, especially in a city. Since the spell was relatively short-ranged, chances were you'd blink yourself into the middle of the enemy army anyway. "At the moment, the dimensional gem is the only way out. I can go alone or accompanied, but I think I _should_ go." 

Iolo, Dupre and Julia immediately voiced their desires to go with me. Lord British said, "Thinkest thou, Avatar, that thou wilt find help in another land?" 

I nodded. "As I did before, my Lord." 

"It is agreed, then. Those who wish to may follow." 

I sat down and the rest of the meeting passed in a blur, my attention suddenly diverted to the bracer Mors Gotha had worn. Turning the crystalline ornament over in my hands below the table, I frowned, wondering what it was that was teasing my mind. Staring at the eight small jewels circling the central gem - white, red, orange, yellow, green, blue, purple, black - it hit me. A colour for each Virtue. This bracer had some strange connection to the Virtues. I couldn't quite place it, but it felt...wrong. 

Soon, everyone was pushing back chairs and moving away to run their own errands. I found myself wandering down the east wing of the Castle before I discovered I was heading towards Nystul's chamber. For a minute I considered returning to my own room to get out of my heavy armour, but I quickly dismissed the idea with a shrug. I was still holding the bracer, so why not stop and see if the mage could say anything about it? 

As always, the air around Nystul's chamber felt strangely electric - charged because of all the magic the old spellcaster had used over his many years of service in the Castle. I rapped on the reinforced steel door and waited for an answer, idly guessing that a metal door was the prerequisite for a profession that involved so many explosions. 

"Enter," a muffled voice called. 

I went in, spared a slight frown as the magic-charged atmosphere tickled my senses, and instantly noticed the Killorn Keep warrior trussed up beside a wall. Nystul calmly explained that the warrior had been hiding under his bed. 

"I don't know how you can stand it in here," I remarked, ineffectually waving at the air in front of my face. "It feels twice as bad now that you've started casting spells again." 

"One gets used to it," the mage replied with a smile. "Besides, it doth not interfere with mine experiments, just a few of my senses. I can put up with that if it means I get to live within the Castle walls." 

Smiling, I shook my head and sighed. 

"So what brings thee here, Avatar?" Nystul asked. "Not a desire to comment on the quality of ethereal waves around my quarters, I presume?" 

"This." I showed him the bracer and told him what I'd seen it do. Nystul extended a hand toward it, but didn't touch, and muttered something. 

"It's the black jewel that holds the power," he said, confirming my suspicions. "It seems similar to the small blackrock stones thou didst use to activate the dimensional gem - maybe a smaller echo of the gem itself. That may explain how the Guardian's forces got here." 

I nodded. "And the black mist?" 

Nystul instructed me to position my hand over the bracer and cast 'Detect Magic'. I did and frowned. I could sense the teleportation properties but something else was there. Something that was more than magic. 

Pushing through the magic-heavy air with my mind, I incanted, "Wis Mani," then snatched back my hand as if it had been stung. Startled, I said to Nystul, "It's alive!" 

He shook his head. "Not alive, Elora. The vibes are wrong." He drew his robes closer as if he suddenly felt cold. "Undead." 

I stared at the bracer like it had turned into a viper. "What _is_ this?" I whispered. 

"_Ka-thra_," I heard the bound warrior mutter. 

"What does that mean?" I demanded, rounding on him. 

He shrank back. "Whoever killed Mors Gotha and took the bracer is _Ka-thra_." 

"But what does _Ka-thra _mean?" 

"The _Ka-thra_ speaks with the Guardian's Voice! The _Ka-thra_ is the bringer of the Guardian's reign - his warleader." 

"How does it work?" 

The warrior hesitated, but I narrowed my eyes at him and he hurriedly said, "The bracer must be worn on the right wrist - the sword arm." He paused nervously. "Or the left, if thou art left-handed. Touching a facet with the other hand will transport anyone or anything to where the facet is tuned." 

I stared at him for a few seconds. "How do you know this?" 

"The Voice told me!" he stated proudly, then he looked suddenly afraid, as if he hadn't meant to blurt that out. 

I let that pass for the moment. "What else does the bracer do?" 

"I don't know, _Ka-thra_," the prisoner quavered. 

"Try asking the Voice," I suggested flatly. 

"Avatar - " Nystul began uncertainly. 

My brow furrowed slightly. The waves of ether swirling through the chamber were shifting slightly, as if magic were being used. I looked a bit closer at the soldier, certain it was he who was causing it, but the thick blanket of power in the room prevented me from being sure. 

The warrior stammered, "The Guardian says, 'Arcadion would know.'" 

I shook my head in exasperation. The Blacksword, to which the daemon Arcadion was bound, I had left in an Inn in Britain the night before the Guardian had trapped us in the Castle. "That's a rather lame attempt to get me to step outside the castle walls," I drawled. 

The warrior abruptly parted his wrists and the ropes binding him snapped. He tore off the ones at his feet then leaped at me with a guttural snarl. Having no time to bring up my axe, I punched with my steel-encased fists and struck him in the face. It was like hitting a brick wall. With a curse, I fell back and the soldier bowled me over. He snatched the bracer from me, then rolled away. Arching by body, I jumped swiftly to my feet and pulled out my weapon, suddenly feeling a strong, unmistakable manipulation of the ether. With a cold expectancy, I looked at the warrior to verify with my eyes what the ether-charged air had hidden from my mind. 

He was shape-shifting into a daemon. 

"Avatar!" Nystul yelled. "He's vulnerable like this! Take him now!" 

I bounded forward and the half-formed daemon evaded, his hideous visage drawn into an evil, leering smile. Swinging the axe furiously, I backed him into a corner from which he retaliated, heedless of the steel scoring his scarlet flesh. One of his claws suddenly latched onto the axe haft and pulled, jerking me off-balance. A second later, his other hand was clapping the bracer around my right wrist. 

"The Guardian bids thee welcome, _Ka-thra_," the creature sneered. 

My right arm felt suddenly numb to the shoulder, so when the daemon released the axe, it was as if I couldn't lift it. The steel half-moon clanged against the stone floor. 

"Quickly, Elora! It hath almost completed the change!" 

My strength returned. The Firedoom axe lashed out and crunched into the daemon's chest. Blood spurted and hit the floor, sizzling like black acid, and the daemon-soldier laughed. I struck again, deeper this time and with flames exploding from the blade. The daemon toppled and fell silent. 

Forgetting all else, I dropped my axe, tore off my gauntlets and tried to take off the bracer. It felt cold, deathly cold, and the blood of the daemon was hot against my fingers where it stained the crystal. Nystul watched my efforts with a stricken expression as I strained, pulled, clawed and finally tried smashing it against a wall. 

I could _feel_ something like a tiny seed burying itself into my mind. Deeper and deeper and deeper... 

With a scream of despairing rage that the whole Castle heard, I shouted, "_GUARDIAN!"_

__

***

  


Dimly, I heard Nystul say, "It hath some kind of soul link." 

"What is that?" asked Lord British. 

I stared silently into space, looking at nothing yet seeing so much. Another trap, I thought bleakly. Another Guardian-made trap. Why did I always seem to fall into them? 

"...it's something that stays with its owner until parted by death. Only then can it be removed. I think the bond is similar to the one Elora hath with the Blacksword." 

"Doth the bond cause any harm?" 

"To all current appearances, no..." 

My mind drifted again. There was so much happening in Britannia and now this. The thought of enemy soldiers marching across the land while leaving behind a trail of destruction momentarily drew me from my self-pity, only to plunge me into concern. What was this bracer really? What could it make me do against the world and people I cared so deeply about? 

I could feel something in my mind... 

"...and the teleportation powers we were told of could be useful." 

Never mind about the black mist I'd seen earlier. Remembering it sent a chill down my spine, but I had no idea why. Something evilly familiar about it teased my mind. It was not the Black Jewel of Mondain; of that I was certain. No force within or without Britannia could take the gem from the protection of the Guardian Statues. 

"...concerns me is that the bracer changed when it was put on her wrist." 

The transparent rainbow-riot of jewel had all turned opaque. Even the bracer itself, that had been as clear as glass, was now a milky moonstone texture. But the black gem had changed into a translucent, flawless diamond. The concept that the darkness might have drained from the gem and seeped into my mind made my jaw clench. 

Lord British said, "The thing hath some connection with the Virtues. Canst thou feel it?" 

"Again it feels wrong," Nystul replied. "Tainted, even. What its true purpose is we can only guess..." 

I rejected the image of a leash around my wrist at one end and gripped in the Guardian's fist at the other. I'd already been under his power once before and it had come close to making me kill my dearest friends and destroying Britannia besides. I did _not_ want a repeat of that episode. I wouldn't allow it. 

"If death severs the bond," I said slowly, "can I not be killed? The bracer can be removed and then I can be Resurrected." 

Lord British's careworn face pulled into a frown. "If that be thy wish," he replied. "Thou art free to ask anyone to perform this act, but they are free to refuse thee." 

He left it unsaid that I could try killing myself, but I doubted I had the willpower to commit suicide - he probably did, too. But I couldn't call myself a coward in the face of such a reaction. 

"The bracer hath done nothing as yet," Nystul reminded me. "And in our current situation, its teleportation energies will be a boon." 

I nodded. "I don't like to agree with this, but you're right. Okay, then. I'll keep the bracer on - not that I have much choice - and see what happens." My skin crawled at the thought of all the possibilities. 

Nystul started to pace the room, muttering at his lack of sense to store enough reagents and other magical supplies for such an emergency. Lord British tapped me on the shoulder and gestured that we should leave him. 

"At least thou hast recovered from the initial shock," the monarch observed once we were out in the corridor. 

"Sorry?" 

"Thou didst seem a bit out of it during most of that conversation, Elora." 

"Oh." I nodded. "I guess I was." 

"Art thou well enough to pursue thine idea to return to the Blackrock jewel below?" 

"Yes, of course," I replied quickly. "Dupre, Iolo and Julia want to come." 

"Really?" he asked with a faint smile. Then he laughed. "I'd never have guessed!" 

I grinned. "I guess being cooped up in the Castle for as long as we've been, even Nanna wouldn't mind slogging through the sewers to see something new!" 

"Neither would I." Lord British looked around at the grey stone walls, colourful tapestries and plants, which had died from lack of sunlight and water. "Sitting on a throne isn't much of an adventure." 

I fell silent, agreeing with him and wondering if I should voice that feeling. As much as I loved and respected the great King of Britannia, I wasn't sure if I wanted the responsibility of taking him through the perils of the Labyrinth of Worlds. "'Sitting on a throne isn't much of an adventure', hmm?" I replied with a sly smile. "I heard about the time one of the children from the nursery left a dirty diaper on your throne and you- " 

"Who told thee that?" demanded Lord British. Then he chuckled ruefully. "I ruined a perfectly good robe that day; the servants were in despair!" 

"I guess you were right when you said that kings and dirty diapers don't mix!" 

He laughed again and I mentally gave myself a pat on the back for getting around the issue. We reached the garden courtyard and the golden sunshine pouring in washed away all thoughts of the dark times before...and the darker ones ahead. 

For the moment, at least. 

***

  


"Well, I guess that's that," said Iolo. 

Dupre and I simply stared at the empty cavern. The pulsing blackrock stone that had teleported us between worlds was gone as if it had never been. It must have been destroyed when I'd liberated the Castle only yesterday. I'd known deep down that this would probably be the case, but couldn't have doused the faint glimmer of hope. 

Julia held up her flaming torch, which caused the ripples on the water surrounding the small, subterranean island to gleam. "Now what?" 

"We go back to the Castle," I answered reluctantly. "There's no point staying here any longer." 

I turned around and led my companions back from whence we'd come. 

***

  


Dupre pounded on the sewer door in a sequence then we waited as it was unlocked and opened to admit us through. 

"'Tis raining, Milords and ladies," one of the guards said as his friend shut the door behind us. "Lord British hath just about every barrel the servants can find lining the battlements and crammed into the courtyard." 

"Thanks for the news," I said. To Dupre, "Looks like an excursion to the Ice Caverns isn't as urgent now." 

The knight nodded. "I'm relieved." 

"I might have a few ideas there," Julia said. "We won't be able to rely on good - or bad, rather - weather forever. There might be a way to purify the sewer water. I'll talk to Geoffrey, Nystul and Miranda about it later."

"We should find Lord British and inform him of our findings," Iolo interrupted. 

A short walk got us to the War Hall where Nystul, Miranda and Lord British were poring over a collection of maps by the light of a large candelabra. The king beckoned for us to come over. 

"Water is no longer a present problem," Miranda told us. She raked the shadowy veil of her dark hair back from her face and smiled. "As ye can see." 

I threw a glance towards the garden where a veritable flood was bucketing down on the brittle grass and dried up plants. The fountain's basin was not quite full, but close to it. "That's good," I replied, "because the teleportation gem is gone. We won't be getting water from anywhere else for a while. Or going anywhere, either." 

The others nodded and Miranda recorded my news on a parchment in front of her, but Nystul added, "I know how thou wouldst feel, Avatar, should we ask thee to try using the bracer." He paused, obviously waiting for a reaction from me. A slight tensing of muscles was the only sign I gave that such a request wouldn't be met with enthusiasm. "Which is why," the mage continued, "that I think thou wilt be happy to hear that we do, in fact have another way out." 

I looked at his craggy, white bearded face in surprise. "How?" 

He smiled, wise eyes sparkling beneath the cowl of his grey robe. "We had a visitor during the storm's cover. It was a winged gargoyle." 

Miranda opened one of the scroll cases on the table from which she extracted three parchments. Unrolling them, she said, "These are reports on what hath transpired in the time we were trapped." 

"Where is the messenger now?" Julia asked. 

"He left while the rain was still heavy," Miranda told her. "Lord British gave him a letter for Lord Draxinusom and he departed." She handed me a scroll. "The gargoyle lord observed that the Guardian's soldiers moved in only on areas of known location - with the exception of the Isle of the Avatar. His scouts and scryers saw no evidence of strategic placement in forests or mountains, only townes and cities." 

I looked up from my scroll. "So Draxinusom moved his people to the Isle of Fire and Ambrosia!" 

"Along with a goodly number of humans," Lord British said. "Those that didn't fear the gargoyles." 

"But Nicodemus said that not many followed, didn't he?" 

Nystul said, "As the number of mages in the evacuations grew, Lord Draxinusom decided that some kind of scrying shield should be raised to foil any enemy wizard attempts to trace the escapes. Therefore Nicodemus wouldn't have seen many of the ships sailing from Trinsic, and neither could he have known that they had disembarked at those two Isles. Both were shielded as soon as possible." He pointed to the scroll that Dupre held. "Draxinusom said that a good number of humans followed, but not many considering those that chose to remain." 

Dupre showed me a paragraph. "He also hath the entire population of New Magincia over there. Knowing that they hadn't been invaded, he decided to move them while he had the chance." 

Iolo looked up from his scroll. "The gargoyles and humans are repairing the fort on the Isle of Fire and getting supplies from Ambrosia." The old bard turned to Lord British. "Milord, how is he managing that? It's a week of boat travel!" 

The king shrugged. "We'll find out later." 

"And what's Draxinusom planning to do with the caddellite he's storing?" Caddellite was the name of a mineral we'd found on the lost isle of Ambrosia. A meteor of the incredibly hard, crystalline rock material had struck the mountains there. 

"I advised him to hang on to it," Lord British said. "It might come in useful...though how..." He shook his head. "Anyway, the gargoyles are going to be our key out of here," he said to me. "There's promise of a storm later tonight. Five gargoyles will fly in and transport five of us out." 

I glanced at my three companions, who smiled eagerly. "I assume that we four are included in the party, so who is the fifth?" 

Syria seemed the logical choice. Geoffrey would be needed at the Castle to oversee the guards, Nystul to serve as court mage...I considered the others. Miranda was a possibility, but not a very likely one. She didn't know much about fighting. Feridwyn of Paws, now _he_ was an interesting idea for a companion. A former Fellowship man might be useful. 

I looked my king in the eyes and instantly knew that I'd been trying to deny that he himself might come. Would come. I inclined my head. "As you wish, my Lord." 

Lord British nodded to me. I thought I saw a faint smile of relief flicker over his face, as if he'd been afraid that I'd try to dissuade him. "Draxinusom's position as leader is precarious," he explained. "Sending messengers to me is all well and good, but they are gargish messengers. Thou knowest that not all our people trust them." He touched the Isle of Fire on the map. "Here is where we will be carried. Where we will have to organise the retaking of Britannia." 

I said nothing, merely nodded. But I suspected that his desire to leave the Castle was more to leave than to organise an army. Dupre was an able field marshal and an excellent warrior, Iolo could teach people to fashion bows and crossbows and how to fletch ammunition, as well as help them learn how to use the firearms in combat. Julia could use her tinkering skills to help rebuild the Castle and both forge and repair weapons. I could... 

What could I do? 

I was the Avatar, but I had no reason to be in this mission. I would be little more than a celebrity until a time came for me to start breaking heads. I felt more than a little ashamed at having doubted Lord British's worth in this task. As a figurehead, he'd be more important than I. 

"Miranda will run the Castle in mine absence," the monarch informed us. "We still have ample food and now plenty of water." 

"But what of the army in Britain?" Dupre asked. "There are enough of them to make me think that they will attack the Castle at any time." 

"Agreed, but there is no one to order such an attack, is there?" He paused, then glanced at me. Or rather, the bracer on my right wrist. "Yet." 

I looked at the bracer. "Perhaps I can speak with them. It's worth a try. If they think of me as their warleader...their _Ka-thra_, then my words might actually carry some weight." 

Lord British gave me a tight smile. "'Twould be appreciated, Avatar. Any time between now and dark." 

Despite the disgusting feeling that clings to you after a casual stroll through the sewers - not to mention the distinct fragrance - I felt suddenly invigorated by the idea of dispersing the enemy army with a few words. "I think I'll try now," I said with a smile. 

So all seven of us ascended to the battlements. The rainstorm was raging in full force and droplets swirled around the towers as the strong wind drove them. I could almost see the rain washing the Castle clean of its accumulated lichen, gathered when the Guardian had denied us sunlight. 

Standing above the portcullis where two guards stood on duty, we looked out over the moat where about thirty soldiers patrolled the street opposite us. 

"I feel like a metal drum," I muttered, as the rain happily banged against my armour. "Virtues know I must sound like one." I normally didn't favour plate armour. It was heavy, cumbersome, noisy and smelly. In my opinion, it was hardly worth the added protection, which was the only reason I'd worn it on the trip down to the teleportation gem. Agility and swiftness couldn't beat some creatures in those other worlds. I put down my helmet then shouted down at the enemy patrol, "Who leads?" 

They halted as one and looked up at me, squinting through the downpour. "Whose voice speaks through the storm?" one of them yelled back. 

I steeled myself, knowing that they would recognise the title I was about to speak. "I am _Ka-thra_." 

They laughed. "Mors Gotha was _Ka-thra_, and she is dead. Who art thou to claim her place?" 

At their words, a voice whispered an answer in my mind. Not just any voice, the Voice. The Guardian_. "By my hand was Mors Gotha slain. The arm that swung the deathstroke wears the _aeth'raesh'al_ bracer. The mind that controlled the arm belongs to the Guardian_." 

"Get out of my mind," I hissed, startling those standing nearest me. "The Guardian," I explained to them, wiping rain from my face. "Whoever wears the bracer speaks with the Guardian's Voice probably because he tells them what to say." 

Nystul's brow furrowed. "He needeth a bracer to do that?" 

I returned his frown. "I think it was the Time Lord that said one of the blackrock generators enabled - or helped - people to hear his Voice. When I destroyed it, it meant that no one could hear him any more - though I still could, for some reason." 

"As could I," Dupre said. "After the Black Gate was destroyed." 

"Maybe because we're not Britannian born?" 

Iolo said, "But everyone could hear him when the Castle was imprisoned." 

"Blackrock," stated Nystul. "Perhaps, Elora, the reason thou and those near thee could hear him was because of the Blacksword. A part of it is made of blackrock, remember?" He looked at the others through the rain. "Hath anyone heard the Voice since the destruction of the blackrock dome?" 

"Not until now," I replied while the others shook their heads. 

"It's a possible reason," Lord British said. "But something to discuss further in a somewhat drier place." 

I smiled, then returned my attention to the patiently waiting patrol below. The rain had slackened only a little, which made it easier to see. 

"I am the Avatar," I told them. I held up my right arm. "See? I wear the bracer of Mors Gotha." 

At that instant, a flash of lightning split the sky. It reflected off the jewels in the bracer and sent sparks of colour in every direction. 

"_Ka-thra! Ka-thra_!" the warriors shouted in unison. "Speak thy name that we may recognise thy leadership, _Ka-thra_!" 

The Guardian's crooning Voice whispered, "_I am Mellorin_." 

Thunder crashed above us. I braced myself in one of the stone crenellations, feeling suddenly dizzy. "What does 'Mellorin' mean?" I muttered, shaking my head. 

Nystul said in surprise, "Avatar? Thou shouldst know; it's gargish!" 

My mind cleared. "'Black Light Make'?" 

"What didst thou say, _Ka-thra_?" the warriors yelled. 

"Can it hurt?" I asked my friends. "Claiming to be this person?" 

"I wouldn't," muttered Julia. 

I nodded, smiling a little. "That'd be like obeying the Guardian's words, I guess." I looked down. "I am Elora." 

The warriors started muttering amidst themselves. Clearly, they hadn't been expecting my reply. I couldn't hear what they were saying, so I demanded, "Will you obey my commands?" 

One of them responded with, "No, _Ka-thra_, we will not. The Guardian says thou dost not yet speak with his Voice. We will not listen to thee." 

With that, they continued on their patrol. 

"Sorry, Milord," I sighed to Lord British. "I guess I didn't help much." 

"But we learned something," the king said in a soft voice. "If we take the words of those warriors at face value, _they_ can hear the Guardian." 

***

  


After that, I had retired to my room. Using some of the Castle's now adequate supply of water, which I heated with my magic, I made some attempt at washing the worst of the sewer's gunk and the smell of my armour off my skin before readying myself for bed. I really needed to sleep. Even so, lying awake in my darkened room, I couldn't. 

After about an hour, I got up, pulled on trousers, boots and a shirt, then headed off to the training room with my axe. 

Julia found me there a few hours later. She watched me rather critically as I hacked and slashed at the unoffending practice dummy for a while, then asked, "Why an axe?" 

I paused to wipe the sheen of perspiration from my brow, then unleashed a backhand blow that would have torn a mortal opponent in two. Fortunately, the dummy had been enchanted to save Lord British the trouble of buying a new one every time I wanted to play with it. "I had trouble using swords after being separated from Arcadion," I said, darting to the left and crashing my weapon down on the dummy's head. 

One of her eyebrows shot up. "Why? Didst thou lose thy skill with them?" 

I laughed shortly amidst a combination of slashes and overhand attacks. "No. I just kept talking to them. I spoke to Dupre about it and he suggested a change in weaponry. Then he even went so far as to refuse to train me with a sword!" 

"Syria would have sparred with thee." 

I grunted. "At the time, she still seemed a bit upset with me for discrediting her old teacher De Snell. I didn't want to hurt her - or get hurt. So, I picked the axe. A bit inelegant for my tastes..." I pummelled the dummy a few more times. "...but they have their advantages, I suppose." 

Julia looked at me closely. "Thou seemest to be taking this rather calmly." 

"This what?" 

"This business with the bracer." 

I raked back my hair and gripped the axe haft tightly. "What else can I do, Julia? Running around hysterically won't do anyone any good - even though it would make me feel better. I'm more angry that frightened," I added, "and anger can lend one a lot of power if it's focussed well. I can either use it to scream at the Guardian, or..." My muscles bunched and I ripped the Firedoom axe across the dummy's chest with all my strength. The material tore from hip to shoulder in an explosion of sand and straw. I backed away, breathing hard, and watched the stuffing pour out onto the floor. 

Julia gave me a wry grin. "With anger like that, if I were the Guardian, I'd be out of here before thou couldst quote me the mantras." 

Brushing sand from my shirt, I chuckled. "So, why did you come down here? Looking for me?" 

She nodded. "Lord British asked me to find thee. It's almost time to leave." 

I nodded. "Thanks. I'll get some armour on then meet you at the garden." 

"Only leathers," she cautioned. "The gargoyles will have enough trouble carrying us without us being encased in steel." 

As she turned to leave, I said, "Julia?" 

"Yes, Elora?" 

"Do you have any idea why I'm coming along on this little trip?" 

Julia gave me her characteristically direct look, at once penetrating and curious. "I thought thou wouldst know. Why dost thou think?" 

I shrugged. "I've no idea." 

"Morale, Elora. Having the Avatar around who hath been defeating the Guardian on a regular basis will be invaluable for the morale of our people." She clapped me on the shoulder and moved towards the corridor. "So put on a brave face for their sake. With the odds we have against us...if we don't have the faintest hope of victory, we'll lose." 

I followed her out and gave the bracer a rather defiant glance, then muttered, "Over my dead body." 

***

  


On the stroke of midnight, five winged gargoyles appeared as if by magic out of the thick curtain of rain and under the cover of darkness. No torches flamed in the garden's vicinity so as not to illuminate the red skinned creatures as they entered. The five landed near the fountain and bowed low to Lord British, who stood with most of the Castle's inhabitants under the shelter of the roof. 

"To greet you, Lord British," one of their number said, bowing. When the horned head rose to face us, I found myself looking into the luminous blue eyes of the gargoyle king Draxinusom! 

"Thou dost honour me," Lord British told him. Like Dupre, Iolo, Julia and myself, he wore conventional leather armour, and a well-used longsword hung at his side. The only symbols of his rank he was bringing were his serpentine amulet and insignia ring. Crown and sceptre were both hidden somewhere within the Castle in a place known only to him. 

I'd privately thought it a bad idea to leave them behind, as the magical nature of the Crown Jewels might be useful later, but had conceded that in order to use their powers, one would have to be wearing or wielding them. And someone standing atop the battlements wearing a Crown would be a target for every enemy archer. 

Lord British looked surprisingly different without his royal robes. He appeared younger and his build seemed more athletic than the bulky robes had shown. 

Catching myself staring, I looked back at the gargoyles. 

"To hope only that everyone will understand this gesture," Draxinusom said. 

"Thy friendship was never in doubt." 

"To know it is not by you, perhaps, Lord British." The gargoyle smiled sadly. He looked at me. "To greet you again, Avatar." 

I inclined my head. "_Prilem_ Draxinusom_. Don grat_." 

His smile became more genuine. Few humans spoke gargish and fewer spoke it well. Most mages could understand it, as gargish syllables were the incantations of power they used in their spells, but fluent gargish rested with less than a dozen humans. Maybe half that. "To say that you are welcome, Avatar," he said. Then the gargish king looked at Lord British. "To ask if all are ready?" 

I was aware that the gargoyles hadn't even stepped inside. Perhaps Draxinusom didn't want to leave puddles on the floor. 

Lord British nodded. Turning to Miranda, Nystul and Geoffrey, he gave them some last minute instructions then bade everyone farewell. He stepped into the rain beside Lord Draxinusom and I followed, going across to a different gargoyle while Julia, Dupre and Iolo followed suit. 

When my gargoyle pulled a tiny glass vial of silver-green fluid from his belt, my eyes widened. 

"Silver serpent venom?" I exclaimed softly in gargish. "To ask why?" 

"To doubt that we would be able to carry you all to the Isle of Fire without the venom's strength enhancements." He pulled out the tiny stopper and downed the liquid, which the other gargoyles were also doing. "To think one will be enough." 

"And safe," I breathed. Too frequent use was an inevitable death sentence of great pain. Too large a dose at once was lethal. I had used the venom myself once only and knew from first-hand experience that the sense of power brought on by the stuff was accompanied by a feeling of invincibility. In humans, at least. Not only had I felt incredibly strong, I'd also started getting powerful urges to attempt smashing mountains into rubble...with my head. 

The gargoyles took hold of us and their leathery wings beat powerfully. In seconds, we were airborne. A minute later, the grey stone of the Castle had faded away and there was nothing to see other than the midnight rain. 

"To wonder how can you find your way?" I asked my carrier, for I couldn't see any of the others. 

The gargoyle replied, "To ask if you have forgotten? To remind you that winged gargoyles are gifted with magic. To add that the wingless are physically stronger, so we must rely on the venom for our strength." He tilted his flight a little. "To know this way is south-east." 

"To request your name." 

"To be called Strongwing." 

Our conversation had been in gargish, so his name, Strongwing, was Forvol. 

Forvol told me that the flight would take several hours. Gargoyles flew much faster than a human could walk, and to walk this distance would take more than two days. Forvol added that even with the venom, they were travelling slower than an unencumbered gargoyle. 

Some time later, I was listening absently to the rain splattering off Forvol's wings as if they were red umbrellas...and we stopped. We were still aloft, but Forvol was hovering rather than going anywhere. 

"To ask what is amiss?" I said. 

Forvol looked disturbed. "To not know. To feel that I have forgotten something." He looked around. "To not know..." 

My eyes widened as sudden realisation hit me. With a groan, I said, "Arcadion!" 

Without a word, Forvol wheeled and flew back in the direction of Britain. We cut through the rain like a knife, faster than I could have believed. The gargoyle couldn't know who or what Arcadion was, but something must have told him that I was right. 

I'd have to talk to Arcadion about that. 

While we flew, I concentrated and sent my thoughts out to Lord British. It took a while to locate him – there was a lot of ocean to cover – but I managed to find him before we reached Britain. "_Richard, I've left the Blacksword behind. I'm going back to get it and I'll just use it to teleport Forvol and myself to the Isle of Fire."_

His thought returned with, _"I hear thee, Elora. Take care._" 

It was still pouring when we reached the borders of the city, and the sky was becoming lighter. Dimly, beneath the watery veil, I could make out buildings. If any soldiers were up at this time and looked in the right direction, Forvol's red skin would stand out like a flag. 

"There," I whispered, pointing. 

He flew me further west until I saw the building sporting a candle sign. An inn. We landed in the street, I forced the door open and we went inside. 

The inn was empty, which came as a surprise to me. Surely every bed in Britain would have to be occupied by enemy soldiers. I shook my head. They were all probably camped outside the city with maybe a few teams holed up in strategic buildings. 

"Avatar," Forvol said. He pointed at bloodstains on the floor. "To believe there was a struggle." 

"To get Arcadion and leave." All the chamber doors were open or smashed in and mine was no exception. Nothing of value remained in my room save the Blacksword. The weapon lay on the bed where I'd left it since the first day of imprisonment within the blackrock dome. The hilt bearing Arcadion's blue jewel cage rested on the pillow. 

"Have a nice sleep?" I asked, picking up the blade and buckling the scabbard's belt across my chest. 

"That was uncalled for," the metallic-sounding voice of Arcadion replied. 

"I hope you were quite comfortable?" 

"Daemons differ somewhat to humans, Master. Not only do we prefer live coals to feathers, we have no need to sleep." 

"You must have been bored." 

"Not really. I entertained myself with a few prospective thieves while you were...doing whatever it is you did." 

"I'm still doing it, but I can't really go anywhere without you." 

"I'm touched." He paused. "Why didn't you just summon me?" 

I stopped short. "What?" 

A faint sigh came from the jewel. "You could have simply called me into your hands at any time, Master." 

"Could I summon you if we were separated by blackrock?" 

Before he could answer, there was a clatter in the reception room. Ducking out of my chamber, I saw Forvol had stumbled against a small table and broken it. His face was drawn into a grimace of pain. 

"To think the venom has run its course," he said in a slightly weak voice. "To take another and we'll leave..." He swayed unsteadily. 

"No," I told him firmly. "No more venom." 

"To be unable to carry you without it!" 

"You seem to have a knack for attracting gargish companions, Master," Arcadion noted dryly. "Planning to get this one killed as well?" 

"That's not funny," I snapped. No doubt another daemon would have found it hilarious. 

"Well it looks like he's dying to me..." 

"Familiar with the effects of ingesting silver serpent venom?" 

"No," he replied grudgingly. 

"This is them." 

"The sword speaks," Forvol said faintly. 

I helped the gargoyle up. "To tell you that there is a daemon trapped in the jewel," I explained. "He's the one doing the talking." I said a silent prayer of thanks that Forvol was apparently unable to understand a tongue other than his own. Arcadion's words might have been a little hard to explain. 

Forvol scratched his hairless scalp and looked out a window. "To regret we will not make it out before dawn." He sighed. "To be sorry." 

"To tell you that we can still get to the Isle of Fire," I replied. I unsheathed the Blacksword. "Arcadion, return us to the Isle of Fire. You, me and Forvol." 

"Yes, Master, though why you'd want to go back _there_..." 

The ether gem darkened and everything around us became steadily brighter. Then, the sudden incandescence forced me to close my eyes. 

***

  


The man dropped a bag of sand with an oath of surprise. "Where didst _thou_ come from?" 

I glanced around swiftly. We were standing within the courtyard of the not-so-ruined fort on the Isle of Fire. A number of humans and gargoyles were toiling side by side to install a new door leading to the corridor to the north. Others were making use of the nearby forge, which generated enough noise to cover the exclamation of the man who'd seen us appear. The man was looking warily at the Blacksword, which I held unsheathed in both hands. Quickly, I slid it back into the scabbard and he relaxed somewhat. 

"Who art thou?" he demanded, this time loudly enough for some other workers to hear. 

I repressed a sigh. There were portraits of me and my exploits in almost every establishment in Britannia and I was _still _having this problem. "I'm Elora – the Avatar." 

The man scoffed. "She's coming later with Lords British and Draxinusom. She won't be here for at least another hour." 

Being further east, it was already sunrise here. Through the open gates to the south, I could make out a soft drizzle sifting down from the sky and a rainbow arching above the island's mountains. 

"I took a short cut," I stated, truthfully enough but knowing instantly that such an answer was inadequate. "All right, how can I prove it? Does anyone here know this gargoyle?" I switched to gargish. "Strongwing, to ask if anyone here can vouch for our identities?" 

Forvol, still a little woozy, called out something to some gargish workers over the noises of the forge. Three of them – one winged – came over and asked a few questions of him. Then the winged one turned to me. 

"To believe," he said…in gargish. 

"To ask if you speak the tongue of humans?" 

He shook his head. 

I sighed. So many gargoyles at the Isle of Fire and I'd got saddled with a group that spoke no other language but their own. Deciding that that wasn't entirely fair, I added the thought that I'd also been saddled with a human that didn't speak a language other than _his _own. 

The gargoyle caught the human worker's attention then pointed at me and nodded. 

"What?" he demanded. "Yes she's the Avatar or yes she's a fake Avatar?" 

The gargoyle, hearing two familiar words in ten – Avatar – hesitated a second, then nodded again. When that produced nothing more than a baffled look from the human, he tried tracing an Ankh in the air and pointing at me again. "Avatar." 

"I can see she's wearing an Ankh, Beninlem," the man said impatiently. 

I rolled my eyes skyward. Reciting mantras wouldn't work, as hardly anyone knew them all. Telling history wouldn't work as most of it held the title of 'legend'… 

"Avatar!" someone shouted from behind me. 

I turned. "Tseramed!" 

The hunter carried two long spears and a bucket full of gleaming, silver-sided fish. Grinning broadly, he dumped it all and we embraced. 

"How did you get here?" I exclaimed. "You were in Britain last I saw you." 

Tseramed's usually quiet voice was excited as he explained what had happened. 

When he'd arisen the morning after the Celebration of the destruction of the Black Gate, he'd seen the blackrock dome where the Castle should have been and had run to find Jaana. Both of them had sought out Katrina and Sentri – two well known companions of mine and friends of Lord British – and gone to the gargish part of the city where Lord Draxinusom was. The Gargoyle King had immediately ordered a group to travel to Cove and to retrieve Rudyom's blackrock-exploding wand, for Lord British had had the wand returned to its owner some months earlier. Due to the general mistrust of gargoyles, the group had only been composed of seven humans. 

None had returned. Rather, an enemy army had come in their place. 

The guard had tried valiantly to hold the city, but Britain had possessed no real army since the Triad of Evil. At best, they had defended the gates long enough for a minimal evacuation. 

Draxinusom had sent fliers to every city, towne and castle with words of warning, then had led the refugees south through Paws and on to Trinsic. Once there, he had conferred with Trinsic's mayor and arranged ships to transport the people off the mainland. 

Tseramed and Jaana had been the ones to suggest the Isle of Fire and the lost Isle of Ambrosia. 

When the fliers returned with news of just about every city either under attack or fallen and the three Keeps under siege, Draxinusom had agreed to use the two islands. 

The shipping had begun and daily reports revealed that the enemy army was moving unhurried towards Trinsic. Draxinusom had then ordered Terfin abandoned and every gargoyle there to bolster Trinsic's garrison. 

The attack had come a few days later with Draxinusom himself leading the defence. The city had held and, with most of the humans from Britain and Paws electing to remain in Trinsic, the gargoyles had left them and flown on ahead to scout the waters between there and the Isle of Fire. 

"After we won at Trinsic, Katrina, Sentri and I came here with the ships." Tseramed smiled. "Jaana stayed at Trinsic because she deemed her healing skills were needed more there. And since then, my main duty hath been hunting. Every now and again I go to Ambrosia for game, but food isn't a problem yet. I'll let Katrina tell thee about it." 

"Any sign of Shamino?" 

Tseramed's smile faded. "None. No one hath seen him since Lord British sent him to the Deep Forest." 

"Ah…Avatar?" the workman interrupted hesitantly. "Mine apologies for not believing thee, Milady." 

I shook my head amiably. "Never mind. Happens all the time." 

"I can't for the life of me figure out how," Tseramed said with a sly grin. "There must be a portrait of thee in almost every establishment on Britannia!" He shook his head. "I suppose it's better to be cautious. Remember that false Avatar, character..?" 

"He was a _man_," I said, my tone slightly offended. "How could even the _stupidest _individual mistake _him_ - no matter how he dressed - for _me_?" 

"It _was _a very good wig..." 

I looked at him sourly. 

He grinned, then quickly decided to change the subject. "Now that thou hast heard what happened out here…what went on inside the _Castle_?" 

"_That_ is a very long story. Show me around the fort and I'll fill you in." 

***

  


The fort was rebuilt. I smiled in satisfaction. "It looks very good." 

Sentri grinned. Tseramed had handed me over to him after claiming the task of having to clean the fish and take them to the storerooms. "The forge helped. Whoever decided to build it in the middle of the courtyard was an idiot, but I could hug him now." 

"It was put there by magic," I laughed. "I used that forge to fashion the Blacksword. I'm glad it's being used for more mundane things." 

Sentri led me into the chamber where stood the three statues of Love, Truth and Courage. The warrior was unofficial Guardmaster as he was the ranking warrior on the Isle of Fire. The force of fighters on the Isle was quite large - enough for a good defence. Most of Sentri's time had been spent training and organising patrols. Spare moments had been used checking inventory. 

"Wait," I said. Approaching the statue of Truth, depicted by a wizened old man, I sent out my thoughts to it. "_Canst thou hear me_?" 

"_Greetings, Avatar_," a distant voice replied in my mind. "_What wouldst thou ask_?" 

I blinked. "_Umm, nothing, I guess. I just wanted to see if I could still talk to thee._" 

There was a chuckle. _"As long as the Flame of Truth stands, so too will I_." 

"Oh no," I whispered as I remembered what Nystul had said about Britannia's state. Empath Abbey, the keep of Love had fallen! I turned to the statue of a beautiful woman and tried speaking to it with my mind. 

No response. 

"What's wrong?" Sentri asked. 

"Something," I answered. There was nothing I could do about it yet. "Anyway, where is everyone sleeping? I saw no camps…" 

Sentri nodded. "When we touch a statue, we're teleported to one of the Testing rooms - according to Tseramed. They're completely empty, so that's where the people have started living - though the Test of Love has been reserved for livestock and a few shepherds." He pursed his lips. "I think most people are living in the Truth test." 

"What about Lord Draxinusom?" 

"Most gargoyles live in the Courage test." 

Repressing a sigh of despair, I asked, "Any conflicts?" 

"Surprisingly few. It's a bit hard to insult the ones who saved thy life." Sentri paused. "Personally, I think that those who don't trust the gargoyles all stayed in Trinsic. But if not for the gargoyles, we'd all probably be dead." He shook his head in admiration. "I saw Draxinusom fight at the battle of Trinsic. I'm telling thee, I'd never want to cross him. He is incredible!" 

I hid a frown. Draxinusom was very old. I didn't know how long gargoyles usually lived or how long they remained strong and agile, but the few times I'd seen the gargoyle king over the past year and a bit he'd seemed tired. Like an old man. "Do you know if they've been using silver serpent venom?" I asked intently. 

"No," the warrior answered. "But I heard Jaana talking about the stuff back in Trinsic. Evidently several gargoyles had died with no obvious wounds. That sound like something the venom would do?" 

"Yes. I think I'd better speak with Lord Draxinusom about it." 

"And thou didst think that thou wouldst be here just for the sake of morale." 

I gave a non-committal grunt. The others had arrived about an hour ago and had immediately started doing what I'd predicted they'd do. Lords British and Draxinusom were off somewhere discussing kingly things; Dupre was touring the castle and drawing battle plans; Iolo was training people to make bows and crossbows; Julia was examining the repairs…and I was doing nothing. 

Sentri went on, "Thanks to some mining operations here and on Ambrosia, we raised enough funds to purchase supplies from Buccaneers' Den. Those pirates didn't even know that Britannia was under attack, and when we told them, half of them seemed inclined to join the enemy!" We walked back into the main part of the castle. "So we have oil, lamps, torches, blankets, hardtack and jerky in case we come under siege, tools for our artisans - picks, shovels, tinker things and the like, reagents, powder kegs, cannons and weapons. Actually, we're making our own swords and armour now since they found an ore deposit on Ambrosia." 

"Wait," I interrupted. "How are we getting between these two islands? That's over a week of boat travel." 

"We have a fair number of mages, Elora. Upon arrival, their main duty was to shield this island and to converse with other mages - at the Lycaeum, for instance. The first voyage to Ambrosia - that Tseramed led since he alone of everyone here knew the way - had some of the mages with them for communication and shielding purposes." He chuckled. "When we _finally_ got a message from them, they told us that a _fairy_ had been throwing colossal amounts of magic-inhibiting dust around the island. Until everyone in the group had let her kiss them, she had refused to stop!" 

I laughed. What method had Tseramed come up with to convince those people that a sloppy kiss wouldn't kill them, I wondered with amusement. 

"So the mages reported that the island was perfect - as long as people were careful in the caves. But they also came up with the same problem as thou didst. Distance." He gestured for me to follow him into the western room, which had previously housed Arcadion's former master. The mage had been killed by his own magic in an attempt to prevent my removal of an evil artefact called the Dark Core. "The solution, they said, was simple. Build teleport pads!" 

The room within that room had once upon a time held a moongate that had sent me to the test of Love. Now it held a raised pedestal, glowing with magic, over which two men stood guard. 

"Caros, Tef, this is the Avatar," Sentri said to them. "Unless our lords say otherwise, she hath free use of the pads." The guards saluted and Sentri added to me, "Not everyone can use the pads, for security reasons. Written permission must be carried, and I doubt very much that anyone can forge Lord Draxinusom's signature." He went up to the shimmering pad. "Coming?" Then he deliberately stepped up onto it and vanished from sight. 

I followed…and found myself standing in sunlight on a different pad atop a gentle, grassy slope beneath blue skies. Ambrosia. 

"We're on the Serpentine Crest," Sentri explained with a smile. "That's what we're all calling these hills." He pointed to the southwest where a stone tower jutted up off a tiny islet in the bay. "From there it looks like the Britannian Serpent," he added, referring to Britannia's coat of arms. "This receiving pad looks like the serpent's eye. I think the mages were being creative." 

"So where's the return pad?" I asked, looking rather longingly at the emerald grass and sparkling water. 

"In the tower. When the fairy stopped throwing her dust, the mages were able to unlock the door. Sentries are posted there, also." 

We walked over the hills and strolled south where Katrina was tending a flock of docilely grazing sheep. On sight of us, she threw back the hood that was protecting her fair skin from the morning sun and came to greet us. 

"Elora! Sentri! What bringeth ye here?" 

"Just visiting, Katrina," I smiled. "Richard, Iolo, Dupre and Julia are back on the other Isle." 

"I heard the gargoyles were planning to carry humans to the Isle of Fire," Katrina nodded. "Well," she waved her crook towards the sheep, "meet the gang." 

"When the gargoyles brought word to New Magincia of the invasion," Sentri informed me, "Katrina went with the ships to evacuate the towne." 

The shepherdess smiled ruefully. "Getting the sheep onto the ships was easier than moving the people!" She leaned on the crook. "I knew we'd need a food source. When the teleporters to Ambrosia were opened, I had the sheep sent here." 

"Good idea," I approved. 

"In any case, our diet is likely to be mutton for a while. Some farmers have started to cultivate vegetables, but it will be a while before we see anything edible. Otherwise, there's fish." 

My diet during the better half of our imprisonment had been entirely composed of fish, so I had no trouble looking disappointed. "I suppose reagent stores aren't strong enough for us to create food?" 

Katrina shrugged, then asked Sentri, "Are they?" 

Sentri shook his head. "That's why the mages wanted to construct teleport pads to the Lycaeum." 

"Wanted?" I repeated. 

"Besieged as it is, the Lycaeum doth not have access to the materials the pads require." He sighed. "And we can't help them." 

I _really_ wished I'd made the effort to pick up the Virtue stones in Britain. My eyes drifted thoughtfully to the bracer. Smaller, colourful gems encircled the central jewel, each one touching one of its single eight outer facets. "There has to be a way." 

"Well, we won't find it with Katrina's sheep," Sentri grinned. 

Katrina gave him a withering look. "Go on. Show her the rest of the island." She pulled up her hood again. "I'll see thee later tonight with the livestock reports." 

I bade Katrina farewell with a promise to come again, and followed Sentri to a jetty that poked out into the small bay. Two humans stood there, and two skiffs were moored nearby. I scratched my head absently and bit back a yawn. I hadn't had a chance to sleep since before leaving Castle Britannia. I couldn't _remember _the last time I'd truly slept without the fate of the world resting on my shoulders. 

Sentri beckoned to me, and one of the men led us to a skiff. We boarded and he took the oars, rowing us towards the slender stone tower dominating the tiny island in the bay. The sound of the oars hitting the water with regular strokes…the ripples that surged gently around the prow… 

I yawned, my jaw cracking loudly as I did. 

Sentri yawned. 

Then the oarsman yawned and politely moved to cover his mouth with his right hand. 

The right oar slid swiftly down into the water and proceeded to sink. 

I moved without thinking and made a grab for the quickly vanishing handle. 

The boat tilted dangerously, teetered on one side for a fraction of a second, then capsized, tossing all three of us into the cold water of Ambrosia's bay before anyone could say anything. 

When I broke the surface, spluttering and feeling _much_ more awake, the oarsman was clutching desperately to the bow of the overturned skiff but Sentri was nowhere to be seen. I took a deep breath, fully intending to dive down after him, just as he emerged with a splash and a gasp. 

"Are you okay?" I asked anxiously. 

He wiped water from his eyes and grabbed the side of the boat. "I'm fine, Elora. It just took me a while to peel off my mail shirt." 

"I'm so sorry! If I hadn't tried to catch the oar…" 

"No, Milady," the oarsman said, his teeth chattering from the cold. "Had I not dropped the oar in the first place…" 

"But if I hadn't yawned…" 

We stared at each other, aware that this conversation could only go so far before becoming ridiculous. 

"How about we just agree that it's everyone's fault," Sentri suggested. He paused. "Except mine," he added blandly. 

I deliberately splashed water into his face. "You yawned, too!" I protested as he shielded his eyes and spat out a mouthful of ocean. 

"Uh, Milady, Sir Knight," the oarsman interrupted. "We appear to be drifting." 

The strong current that rushed through the narrow entrance to the bay had caught hold of our small craft and was pulling us toward the sea. The tall cliffs lining the entrance were surmounted on either side by gigantic skulls - white bleached, hollow eyed and dagger toothed. 

"Try turning the boat over," Sentri said. 

We did, but without solid support beneath our feet, the skiff collected a large amount of water and wallowed hopelessly low on the surface. 

"Magic?" Sentri suggested. 

"I brought no reagents!" I replied helplessly. 

"Well, we can't swim back…not against this current." 

The oarsman glanced back at the jetty. "Where's Massav when thou needest him?" he muttered. 

Then I had an idea. "I can still use linear spells. They don't _need_ reagents. All I have to do is catch your friend's attention and get him to bring his boat." I gestured. "Bet Ort!" 

A fizzing sound filled the air as colourful streamers of light shot skyward. 

"Those fireworks won't be very visible in the sun, Avatar," Sentri pointed out. 

"Do _you _want to do this?" 

"No need to get defensive…" 

I cast a second spell and the sound of thunder rumbled around the bay then let its full force loose in a deafening crash. 

Someone appeared on the jetty. 

"Wave!" I shouted, throwing up one arm and hanging onto the skiff with the other. 

About ten or more minutes later, Sentri and I were huddled rather miserably in a pile of blankets at the tower. My uncontrollable shivering had stopped and I was again beginning to think that life might still be worth living. 

"The smiths won't be happy about that chainmail," sighed Sentri. 

I mumbled something unintelligible, then yawned in his face. 

The tower was tall for its two stories. A stone staircase wound up the west and north wall to where the teleportation pad leading back to the Isle of Fire was. Otherwise, the tower was completely devoid of furniture. 

"How long hath it been since thou didst sleep last?" Sentri asked presently. 

"_Really_ slept? I'm not sure. That Labyrinth of Worlds thing went on for some time." 

"And is still going, it seems. Where are these invaders from?" 

I told him about one of the worlds I'd travelled to, in which I'd visited Killorn Keep - a stone castle hovering by some magical means above a golden desert. I talked about its warlike people who followed the ways of the Guardian, and their fanatical pursuit of power and Guardian-given favour, the secret faction who resisted his ways, about Mors Gotha who had led the soldiers into Britannia and who had finally died at my hands - whether because the Guardian had refused to rescue her at the last, or because he couldn't activate a moongate in Britannia - about the warrior Lobar whom I had befriended over a mug of ale, and the warrior Relk who had conspired to kill me, knowing exactly who I was. As I was explaining about the Trilkhai - a race of large, telepathic cats - a red-robed mage entered. He regarded both of us a bit doubtfully. 

"Am I to believe," he asked, "that I speak to Sir Sentri and the Avatar?" 

I stood and tried to push back my half-dried hair into some semblance of order. "I'm the Avatar," I said. "That's Sentri." 

The mage bowed low. He was polite, I'd give him that. "Annon at thy service. I'll be accompanying both of ye back to the Isle of Fire." 

"May I ask why?" 

His face turned grim. "The shielding spells which I and my fellow mages erected around Ambrosia to block scrying fell scarcely an hour ago. There was a tremendous surge of ether and our spells were thrown aside." Annon leaned closer and whispered, "The Guardian knows we're here." 

We stared at him in dismay. "There's no doubt?" 

"None." 

"What about the Isle of Fire?" I persisted. 

He shrugged. "I'll find out about that when I deliver my report to Mariah." 

"She's here as well?" I asked in surprise. "I thought she'd be in the Lycaeum." 

"Not since before the celebration and imprisonment, Elora," Sentri reminded me. "Mariah's our unofficial archmage, just like I'm the Guard Captain." 

I looked at Annon. "You know Lord British has arrived, don't you?" 

"Not that he'd actually arrived, Avatar," he answered. "But we all knew he was coming. That's good news." 

The three of us went upstairs to where a pair of guards stood watch over a teleport pad. Sentri told the two who I was and we passed through. We found ourselves in the eastern wing of the fort on the Isle of Fire. 

"Are these still here?" I asked, looking a bit skittishly at a broken mirror, seemingly made of shards of flame, and a stone pedestal on which had rested the Dark Core. 

"Evidently so," Sentri replied. 

"That's a very annoying habit you have, Sentri." 

"What's that?" 

"You always have to get the last word in." 

"Of course." 

I sighed. "So where are the lenses?" 

Sentri blinked. "What?" 

"Mariah hath the convex and concave lenses, Avatar," Annon informed me. "But she was loath to disturb the mirror. Is it important?" 

"It used to hold a daemon," I said. 

"Did the monster escape?" 

"He probably wishes he did." 

"Why would I want freedom when I could be bonded to an ignorant mortal who seems to be fascinated with the idea of traipsing all over this hellishly cold world for no other reason than to have me chop up something insignificant with my almost limitless powers?" Arcadion muttered acidly into my ear. 

"Limitless?" I riposted mildly. 

The daemon paused. "I _did _say 'almost', didn't I?" 

"Say it all again and I'll tell you." 

"He said 'almost', Elora," Sentri said, backing Arcadion. "I was more interested in his comment about Britannia being 'hellishly cold'. I didn't think those two words were compatible." 

"This is most uncanny," Annon stated. 

"And of course, mages only deal in the mundane," drawled the Shade Blade. 

"I don't think he likes me." 

I rolled my eyes to the ceiling. "Don't be ridiculous. Arcadion likes everyone." 

"Especially medium-rare…" began the daemon. 

Annon peered closely at the pulsing blue jewel in the hilt of the blackrock sword with all the interest of a child watching a beetle. "I see." He frowned suddenly. "It is bonded to thee?" 

I nodded somewhat resignedly. 

"Interesting. Well," he straightened, "I'd better see Mariah. Coming?" 

Sentri said, "I regret that I have duties now." To me, "I might see thee later, my friend." 

"Bye, Sentri. Thanks for showing me around." As the knight turned Guard Captain departed, I turned to Annon and accepted his offer to visit Mariah. "Where is she?" 

"In the Truth test, Avatar," he answered. "Thou mightest have trouble navigating the place at first. 'Tis quite large, and larger still since our people have been working to make more room by tunnelling further into the mountains. There isn't enough wood to make signs, so stone masons have taken to carving runes on walls and making plaques. Mariah is situated in the Alcove of Truth." 

We came to the principle statues and I reached out, touching the stone folds of the statue of Truth's robe. A faint ringing as of some tiny bell filled my ears and I was abruptly standing somewhere else. A small room without apparent exit, though the southern wall was deeply scored with runes. Scanning them quickly, I saw that they told newcomers of an illusionary wall – the way out. 

Annon appeared and beckoned for me to follow. We passed through the insubstantial stone and into a candle-lit corridor, which in turn led to a large hall. The hall was strewn with bedrolls, blankets, fur pelts and assorted clothes and cloaks. Several people could be seen sleeping in various areas, and the hall was very quiet. 

"Those fearful of the deeper passages sleep here," Annon whispered. "There aren't many, but there are enough." 

"Does this place have a name?" 

"We call it Terquaskorp." 

Place Fear. Quaskorp… My jaw tightened a little. "The superstitious?" 

Annon shrugged. "Some. Most are just timid or old. A lot of people were forced out of Trinsic to make room for those who were able to defend it." 

Picking our way around piles of bedding, we crossed to the other side of the hall and went through a second fake wall edged by runes reading 'Alcove of Truth'. We reached the square room where I'd found the talisman of Truth more than a year ago. It now held a desk, a bedroll, books stacked in a corner, and a mage reading over a thick pile of parchment. 

"Mariah?" I blurted in near disbelief. 

She looked up and a smile of pure pleasure lit her face at the sight of me. But beneath her joy, she looked dead-tired. Her blue-green eyes were lucid from extreme lack of sleep, dark bruises of weariness circled them. Her brownish-red hair had been cropped short so that the curls swung above her shoulders, but they were dull and crushed as if she'd had no time to brush them. 

"Elora! Ah, and Annon. What news?" 

Her voice was not the same. It was the kind of voice one has having just arisen a few minutes earlier. Annon gave her his report and she quickly jotted down some notes. 

"Not good at all," she sighed. "Tell the mages to start scrying the surrounding waters of Ambrosia. We must make ready for an assault." 

"What of this Isle?" Annon asked intently. 

"We've already started doing the same thing here." She fished out a sheaf of parchment and glanced at it. "Gadriel reported the Isle of Fire's shield penetration early this morning. The same tactic – a surge of ether." 

"But a concentrated surge on one place?" Annon objected. "Either it was systematic – which is doubtful – or our location was known and they only used _their _scrying to verify it!" 

"A spy?" Mariah asked tiredly. 

"Let's not go into that, Mariah. There are only two possible parties to blame – human mages and the winged gargoyles. The last thing we need is a racist debate sparked by some enthusiastic, idiotic Britannian Purity League member. Things have been pretty calm in that area, so we'd best not stir it up. As for the human mages…the common folk seem to be harbouring resentment against us." 

"Why?" 

"They don't understand the exertion we go through to cast spells. They think we just wiggle our fingers to perform feats, and walk around in perpetual clouds of mystery." 

Mariah made a note. "Thank thee, Annon." She smiled slightly. "Perhaps it might help if thou wouldst spread the word to mages that we should make some attempt to look fatigued after casting a spell." 

Annon made a face. "It's so humiliating for someone with this kind of power to look weak." 

"Humility is good for the soul, Annon," she replied with another smile. "And so is Honesty. Thou sayest we feel tired after casting a spell, so don't try to hide it." 

Annon nodded. "Very well." Then he looked at me. "Well, Avatar, I'd best return to my post. Looks like the war is coming our way again. It was nice meeting thee." 

I bade him farewell and he was off. Then I said as bluntly as I could, "Mariah, you look terrible." 

She chuckled, still looking at her parchments. "Thou art no better thyself." 

Remembering my dunking in Ambrosia's bay and my own lack of sleep, I relented. "Sorry." 

Mariah grinned. "No doubt thy work within Castle Britannia was more strenuous than mine. Tell me about it." 

"No way! That would take ages. Wait for Iolo to write a ballad." 

"Elora, Iolo's ballads take even longer," she pointed out. "Anyway, 'twill be awhile before any of us get a chance to do something for fun." 

"Administration?" I guessed, pointing at her papers. 

She nodded. "It's only got worse today since the shields were broken." 

"Who broke them?" I put in. "From all we saw, they have no mages with their army. That only leaves one of us or the Guardian." 

"Just because thou hast not seen an enemy mage doth not deny his existence," Mariah cautioned. "Look," she added. "I'm about to turn in for some sleep. Hast thou a room? I thought not. Come, let's find one for thee. I'll sleep if thou wilt." 

I grinned. "Deal. But before we go, would you mind giving me some reagents? I know we're short, but I could _really _use some." 

The mage smiled. "I know the feeling. It's fine, Elora. I'll give thee what I can." Opening a drawer in her desk, she pulled out a dark brown pouch and handed it over. "There should be ten of every kind of reagent in there; that's standard equipment for every mage with us at the moment. Will it be enough?" 

"Yes. Thank you." 

We returned to the main tunnels and as we walked, I asked, "Do you think we were detected when the gargoyles carried us here?" 

"It's possible. But thine arrival with the others was later into the morning. Furthermore, 'twould not explain Ambrosia's discovery." 

I frowned. I had arrived over an hour before the others… 

"It's the Avatar!" 

I was suddenly jumped by about ten young people of ages ranging between six and fourteen years. Literally bowled over, I tried to distinguish one question from the next dozen that were fired at me. 

"Art thou here to save us again?" 

"My favourite portrait of thee is when thou art facing Mondain! Is it true he could turn into a bat?" 

"Dost thou remember my great-great-great-great grandfather?" 

"Canst thou sign my mother's sword, please?" 

"I played the part of Dupre in my school play! Wouldst thou like to see mine impression of him drinking an ale?" 

"Can I join thee in thy quest?" 

I laughed out loud. 

Mariah was busy assuring some more adult spectators that yes, I was indeed the real Avatar, yes, I was the same one who had killed Mondain, yes, I was here to help save Britannia, and no, I didn't always look the way I did now. 

"I'd be happy to answer any questions," I interrupted finally, "But on condition that I get to stand up first." 

Instant cooperation. I was assisted to my feet by the two eldest in the group – who looked positively thrilled at the notion of helping the famous Avatar – then was swamped by more questions. Eventually, I managed to talk them into only asking one question each and things went more smoothly. 

"Yes, this is a _real _Ankh. I got it when I truly became the Avatar in the Age of Enlightenment. Next? Yes, Mondain could turn himself into a bat. You? That's two questions, I'm only going to answer one or it wouldn't be fair. Oh, well, that's easy. If I could turn into any creature in Britannia, I'd be a dragon. Because they can fly. Dragons are more impressive than birds. _Or_ bats." 

Finally, I got to the last question that was given by the eldest girl. "Art thou afraid?" 

I looked at her. "Of what?" 

"Of dying. Wouldst thou die to save Britannia?" 

I thought a minute, then softly said, "That's two questions with two different answers. Which one should I reply to?" 

"Canst thou not answer both? Please?" 

After a brief, uneasy pause, I nodded. "Yes. I'm afraid to die. But if I had to in order to save Britannia, I would." 

"I didn't know the Avatar _could _be afraid." 

"If there wasn't anything to fear," I told her with a smile, "there'd be no reason for Courage to exist." 

Satisfied somewhat, this representation of Britannia's younger generation thanked me with enthusiasm for my time, then ran off to do whatever it was children do at that age. 

"I'm getting way too old for this," I muttered to Mariah. 

She laughed out loud at that. "Try telling Lord British that!" 

We kept walking and I turned my attention to the small metropolis that was forming around us. It was like an underground city. Children played in open areas with makeshift balls, and there were several barracks and posts from which the people could collect rations, candles and other necessities. Stonemasons had obviously been hard at work as there were many branches and passages that I didn't remember from my last visit. 

"Wood hath become too valuable to burn," Mariah said, explaining the lack of torches. "And with the enemy on our heels, oil is more use as a weapon that a light source." She made a tiny gesture and whispered a spell. A mere pinprick of light appeared – bright, but short-lived as it quickly vanished. "We mages have other options, of course, but even we are restricted." 

"How bad are the reagent stores?" 

"Bad enough. We're going to have to buy them from Buccaneers' Den at extortionate prices. Even then, it's only a matter of time until the supplies run out." 

"But there should be plenty of sulphurous ash on this island! All the volcanic activity- " 

"Stopped," Mariah interrupted. "Ash stores are higher than the others save garlic, but we need to save everything. Candles suffice for now and they also provide some heat." 

She pointed out various landmarks and houses as we continued on. A river running through the Test was the water supply and a small lake further down was the communal bathing area. 

"Either that or thou canst haul buckets of water to thy room and warm them with thy candles," Mariah said dryly. "It's amazing what some will do for modesty's sake." 

There was a middens pit to the southwest, and the canyon I'd seen while trying to complete the Test so long ago was forbidden ground. Guards had even been set there just to make sure no one was stupid enough to fall in. 

Presently, we reached a stone chamber in which a stout, bald man sat reading a book. He looked up as we entered and smiled at Mariah, reaching for a quill and parchment. "Another refugee, Mariah?" 

"Not exactly, Barl. This is Elora – the Avatar. Canst thou fix her a room?" 

"I'd be honoured!" The little man extracted a thin map from somewhere on his desk and made a mark on it. "Room five in the First Sanctuary," he said, handing me a slip of paper. "Hold onto that in case some fool disputes thy right to be there, Milady." 

"The First Sanctuary is where?" Mariah prompted. 

Barl shot me an embarrassed look. "It's just off Avatar's Way. Eastern passages." 

"Back the way we came, then. Thank thee, Barl." 

"Any time, Milady. Avatar." He inclined his head to us. 

***

  


Avatar's Way was a street – or more correctly, an earthen passage – from which branched several other tunnels and interconnecting rooms. The First Sanctuary was the first such room which appeared at the end of a short corridor. This room in turn gave access to several others, which were numbered. Mariah walked me to the curtained door of number five where she bade me good afternoon and took her leave. I wondered rather irrelevantly how she'd known what time of day it was. 

Sighing loudly, I entered and took stock of my room. Bedroll, blankets, candle, flint…Taking in my appearance in a fragment of mirror, I grinned. I looked as bad as Mariah. Then I sobered, remembering how shocked I'd been at the sight of her. I looked terrible. Moving slowly, I unbuckled the scabbard holding Arcadion and propped him in a corner. 

"Home sweet home, hm?" I asked him as I took off my salt-stiff leathers. 

"Truth isn't always a nice place to visit, Master," Arcadion answered. His harmonic voice was brooding and dark. 

"What Truth are we talking about?" 

"Are you saying you don't know what broke the scrying shields?" he asked incredulously. 

I paused in the act of stripping off my trousers. "It's the bracer, isn't it." It wasn't really a question. "And those ether disruptions the mages were talking about, they happened both times I teleported." 

He was silent for a while. "Now you just have to figure out _why_." 

I gave the sullenly glowing jewel a worried look. "Do _you_ know?" 

"What I know isn't much. The bracer breaks down any scrying shields so you can't hide when you use magic to teleport. The pulses that break the shields also serve to give anyone who's paying attention a rough idea of where you've gone - provided they're on the same world as you." 

"But who is this serving?" 

"I don't know. You forget that I've been trapped in Britannia for some time, now. This bracer is obviously new technology - I've never seen its like." 

What was going on? I sighed, then rather suddenly noticed the drab condition of the scabbard. I hadn't been the only one who'd been tipped into the bay. With a muttered curse, I drew the Blacksword with the intent of oiling and polishing the metal blade, but I didn't have the appropriate tools. A slight tarnish stained the sword and I hoped rust wouldn't be forthcoming. 

"You don't look so good yourself, Avatar," the daemon stated. 

I dropped him hastily and hauled my wrinkled cloak around myself, blushing furiously. "You can't really see me!" I accused. 

"You really should eat more," Arcadion went on clinically. "Your ribs are sticking out." 

Picking him up awkwardly, I propped him against the wall with the gem facing away from me. I could have almost sworn I heard him laugh. 

I put on the shapeless linen shift I found in a mesh bag, then turned my attention to the beef jerky I saw on a stone plate. I was _almost _hungry enough to eat it, but one unsuccessful bite at the hardened meat dissuaded me from doing so. 

Looking at the bedroll, I decided that a bath could wait. I was _really _tired. Then, without another thought, I fell into the blankets and didn't move for a long, long time. 

***

  


__

"I see you, Avatar. Rest while you can, for I am coming." 

***

  


I woke with a start. 

"Guardian?" I whispered. 

No answer. 

"How long have I been asleep?" I groaned, rolling over. It couldn't have been long as I still felt tired. Sure enough, I was asleep a second later. 

***

  


__

A mirror. I remember a mirror. A mirror topped by a black Ankh. But it's unbroken. Didn't I break it? I can see my own reflection in it, whole and alone, staring back at me. 

__

The reflection. It's me but at the same time it's not. It doesn't follow my movements. Is it me? Is it someone else? 

__

"Remember me?" 

__

My voice. From her lips. 

__

"We are one. I am you. You are me. One mind, one heart, one life." 

__

There is a shimmering white sword in my hands. I lift it, bring it down with all my strength. "I'm not going back. Not there. Not ever." 

__

"You don't have to." 

__

The mirror darkens and breaks. Infinitesimal shards fall away in a flash of rainbow colour, but some still cling to the frame of the mirror. All the black pieces…like splinters of night…every fragment reflecting a part of me…a part of my soul… 

__

I can't breathe. 

__

Virtues! I can't breathe! 

__

"Soon, we'll be two. I'll be me and you'll be you. But it will be my_ mind, _my _heart, _my _life."_

__

"What…are…you?" 

__

"You made me. I am the parts of you that you wish didn't exist. All those dark shadows and black shards rolled into one. My name is Mellorin." 

__

The bracer…take it off! Someone help… 

__

"How does it feel to be helpless, Elora? This is how I have felt all our life - you controlling everything while I look on without a choice." 

__

I look up from where I've fallen, gasping for air. She stands above me…she's holding my sword. There are people behind her…who…my friends? 

__

"I'm going to enjoy this job." 

__

I CAN'T BREATHE! 

__

"The Guardian is coming, you know. But I have always been here." 

__

"I will endure! I am the Avatar…" 

__

Her voice comes from far away. "I_ am the Avatar. Remember that even if you forget all else. Goodbye…for now…"_

***

  


When I awoke, I slept in. I loved sleeping in and I hadn't had the opportunity to do so for quite some time. There wasn't any way for me to guess what hour it was short of a spell, and I couldn't be bothered in any case. More sleep was definitely a priority. As the minutes slipped by, however, I found myself staring at the faint light coming from beneath the curtained doorway to my room. 

"Arcadion?" I said. 

"Yes, Master?" 

"Did I talk in my sleep last night?" 

"Haven't you always?" 

"Don't get smart with me," I said somewhat peevishly. "Can you remember anything I said?" 

"Oh, the usual…'Name', 'Job', 'I am the Avatar', 'Bye'." 

"Thanks." 

"No charge." 

Eventually, hunger and the desperate urge to have a good wash forced me out of the bedroll. There wasn't anything to wear but the clothes I'd used yesterday. Cringing slightly, I put on the leathers – which were still stiff from the seawater – and located a rough drying cloth. En route to the bathing lake, I ran into Julia. 

"Elora! I was looking for thee! Mariah just gave me directions to thy room a few minutes ago and– " 

"Wait, Julia, what _day _is it?" 

"According to Mariah, thou didst go to sleep yesterday afternoon. It's about ten o'clock in the evening." She grabbed my left arm. "Quickly! Lord British wants to speak with thee!" 

"Julia!" I complained. "I want a bath!" 

She laughed. "Thou wouldst keep our lord waiting for _that_?" 

"Today I would," I replied grumpily. "It's not urgent, is it? I want a bath. I _need _a bath. I need a change of clothes, I need a good meal, I need to oil my armour and sharpen my sword-" 

"Thou needest a few more hours sleep," she retorted. "What's gotten into thee?" 

I stopped to stare at her. "I just woke up! Isn't everyone irrational first thing in the morning…_argh_…evening…whatever." I resumed walking, though at a faster pace. 

Julia shook her head. "Fine. I'll tell Lord British. I'm sure he'll be thrilled." 

"Go on and tell him then," I said, irritated. "I'm _not _coming!" 

She grinned. 

"Yet!" I amended. "Oh, and on your way out, could you have someone send me some new armour? Just have them take it to the lake." 

"And here I thought thou wert always virtuous and wouldst never hesitate to answer duty's call." 

"There's nothing virtuous about being dirty." 

"I'll quote thee on that!" 

"Yeah? Well you can quote me on this, too!" And I turned my back on her and kept walking without saying another word. 

The tunnels were quiet at this time. They were very dark - less than half of the candles set around the areas were lit - and quite peaceful. Only a few people were still awake; there was always someone stationed at the healers' makeshift hospice, for example, but otherwise, all was still. The only audible noises were faint echoes of distant conversation and the thud of my boots on the earthen floor. 

The lake was almost as silent. There were a few people taking an evening dip and I was glad the place wasn't crowded. I wasn't ashamed of my body in any way, but I wasn't really one for casual nudity. Just having people know I was the _Avatar _was guaranteed to attract a crowd. 

With a faint sigh, I undressed down to my Ankh and waded out into the water, armed with a rough bar of soap. 

I'll confess that I took my time. If there's one thing I enjoy as much as sleeping in, it's relaxing in a hot bath. The lake water, although not hot, was still distinctly warm - probably because of any volcanic activity that still lingered on the Isle. After washing off as much of the dirt as I could, I tossed the soap ashore and swam deeper. When I could no longer feel the ground, and the glimmer of candles seemed distant and far off, I closed my eyes and floated. 

Time was suspended. There was no noise, no light, nothing. The troubles of the world fell from my shoulders and I felt completely at peace...nothing around me but warm water and soft darkness. 

Eventually, I made my way back to the shore. There was a guard waiting beside my belongings when I got there. 

She turned her back politely as I left the water and wrapped myself in the cloth, then asked, "From thine Ankh, I take it thou art Elora?" 

"Yes." 

"Julia sent me to bring thee some new clothes, Milady." She handed me some leather trousers, a clean shirt, a supple leather vest, a pair of boots and gloves, a dark green cloak and some undergarments. "She awaits thee in the statue room." 

"Thank thee. Wouldst thou do something with these, please?" I gestured at my old armour. 

"Yes, ma'am." The guard saluted, picked up the pile and left. 

I dried myself off and dressed, but didn't follow yet. Instead, I sat down, wrapped my wet hair in the cloth, and watched the candlelight glisten against the ripples of the dark lake. 

***

  


"There thou art." 

I gave Julia a sunny smile. 

"Thou art feeling better, I take it?" 

"_Much _better," I assured her. "Now, we were going to see Lord British, weren't we?" 

"Amazing," she drawled. "Thou hast not forgotten, after all. He's up on the battlements." 

"Thanks for the clothes, by the way," I said as we headed for the courtyard. 

She shook her head. "I don't see why thou didst make such a fuss." 

"How do you think the guards on duty would have felt seeing me in that state? If I'm here for morale, Julia, I'll do a much better job if I don't look like a walking corpse!" 

There was a group of humans and gargoyles working the forge together as we passed toward the stairs. Julia raised her voice above the hiss of steam and clang of metal, "Thou'rt right. I'm sorry." 

"I think the question is, why were _you _making such a fuss?" 

She gave a rueful laugh. "I've been working around the clock since we got here. The fort itself may be complete, but we're dangerously low on weapons, armour and ammunition. The sooner I get my 'students' to perfect fletching, the sooner I can sleep." 

"You'll sleep as soon as I finish talking to Richard," I said with a snort. "Even if I have to 'In Zu' you. A sleepy teacher makes for careless students." 

We mounted the stairs to the rampart where Lords British and Draxinusom stood beneath the star-filled sky, gazing out at the southern bay of the Isle. The silvery glow of the twin moons Trammel and Felucca played over their features - so different, yet, in their calm, pensive expressions, so alike. 

They turned as we approached, Draxinusom's blue eyes shining faintly in the darkness. 

"It seemeth to me the time thou didst spend at the lake was not wasted," Lord British said, giving me an approving look and a smile. 

I ran a hand through my drying hair and smiled back. "Good evening, my friends." 

"To greet you this evening, Elora," Draxinusom said. "To ask how you are feeling?" 

"Better, Draxinusom. Maybe not perfect, but much better." 

"And thou lookest it." Lord British's eyes went out over the bay again. "This is the first night I can remember in a long time in which I got the chance to look at the stars." He sighed rather wistfully. "I don't suppose anyone on the Isle hath a telescope, Drax?" 

"To say that there is, Richard, but to add that their use is restricted to the lookouts. To think that there might possibly be a spare - somewhere." 

Lord British laughed, and I felt myself smiling. I had seen these two together _very _rarely, and while I'd guessed at their friendship, I hadn't known how deep it really was. The use of first names and nicknames clearly proclaimed the fact that these monarchs were very close friends. 

The gargoyle king stretched his wings absently, then said, "To remind you that you asked Elora up here, Richard." 

"Ah, yes." He faced me again. "We want to keep thee abreast of the situations here, Elora. I've no doubt that thou wouldst be able to help us on some. What hast thou heard or seen so far?" 

"Not a lot, I'm afraid. The fort has been fully repaired, we're low on weapons, armour, ammunition, reagents, wood, we have functional teleporters between here and Ambrosia..." I shrugged. "What can you two add?" 

"Hast thou heard of the ether disruptions the mages are investigating?" 

I nodded. "And I can shed some light on that matter." With a gesture at the bracer, I went on, "The scrying shield on this Isle fell at the precise time I teleported here with the Blacksword. Likewise with Ambrosia and the teleport pads." 

Draxinusom peered closely at the bejeweled bracer. "To ask what it is?" He passed a scarlet hand over it. "To think it is alive!" 

"Undead, Drax," Lord British replied, his face somber. 

"It was previously worn by Mors Gotha," Julia supplied. "Warleader of the Guardian's armies." 

The gargoyle's eyes flared slightly at this, brightening as if fuelled by some strong emotion. "To remember her. To remember fighting her." 

"I think there's some kind of tracking spell on the bracer," I said. "Whoever wears it can't conceal any location they teleport to." I frowned. "But _I _never felt these ether pulses." 

"To think it might be because you're wearing it?" 

"Possibly. At any rate, I can't remove it." 

"Well, this solves one mystery, at least," Lord British said. 

"What else is going on?" 

"In a couple of days, some of our ships will be sailing for Buccaneers' Den for more supplies. Reagents, cannonballs and the like. Julia is going with them." 

I looked at the tinker. "Any special reason why?" 

Julia shrugged. "I have a few contacts there. From reports, the situation at the Den was a bit hostile the last time we sailed in. I'm going to lend our people whatever authority I can provide over the pirates." Then she grinned. "And I'm not famous enough for them to try holding me ransom." 

"They can't be _that _bad, can they?" 

"Who can tell? Britannia's at war, and that's a pirate's favourite pastime. I'll talk around and see if I can convince them to sink the enemy instead of us." 

"That would be nice." 

She grinned again. 

My eyes wandered to the moonlit outlines of the cliffs leading into the bay. I could barely make out the two stone watchtowers - one on either side - on which stood a man or woman keeping night long vigil. Absently rubbing the water-polished Ankh I wore, I asked, "Any other news?" 

"To say that Britannia's state has not changed," Draxinusom told me. "To have seen myself that Trinsic, Jhelom, the Lycaeum, Serpent's Hold and Castle Britannia are still under siege. But to have discovered an interesting thing." 

"What?" I asked. Julia and Lord British also looked curious. 

"To have seen neither prisoners nor hostages - none of our people. Not even bodies. Not one." 

"Graves? Pyres?" Julia asked. 

Draxinusom shook his head. "To say that this is so in every city except Minoc. Britannians still live there, though under enemy rule." 

"But they're free?" Lord British pressed, this news obviously new to him. 

"To say it seems so. But to think it was because they surrendered." 

"They _what_?" 

"Minoc surrendered without a fight," Julia echoed softly. "Do we know why?" 

"The Fellowship," Draxinusom said. "Maybe not the organisation itself, but people who had once run it." 

"Are we sure about this?" I put in. 

"To tell you that before the invasion, enemy scouts were sent to members of the disbanded Fellowship with news of the attack and a strong recommendation that they persuade their cities to surrender. Had a person of power with such a connection been in Britain, like Mayor Patterson, things may have gone very differently for us. To say, as it was, the messenger contacted a lesser man, but one who had come to believe the truth of the Fellowship. The truth of the Inner Voice." 

"'Had'?" I interrupted. 

"He stayed behind to help defend Britain," Draxinusom said, his eyes dimming a little. 'To know it was a futile act, but to not have argued against it. To think he wished to fight against the force he had supported before. At any rate, it was _he _who warned us of the invasion while we still had a chance of escape." He glanced up at the sky. "The band of humans sent to retrieve Rudyom's wand had already departed - were already dead or captured - when the man came forward with his information. To say my eyes searched the skies near Cove that day. They saw the enemy, then to have ordered the evacuation." 

"Thou didst rightly," Lord British murmured. "It was a wise move that saved many lives." 

"To not be certain of my wisdom," the gargoyle replied heavily. "To have lost more than half your land." 

"_Our _land Drax," he corrected gently. 

"I wouldn't say you lost anything," I said, my tone just as soft. "Rather, think of what you saved. Had you not acted, we might not even have _this_." I waved a hand around to indicate the moonlit Isle of Fire. "Not to mention uncountable, invaluable lives." 

"Did that former Fellowship man ever speak his name?" Julia asked presently. 

"To say no." 

"Wait," I interrupted again. "Excuse me," I added with a grimace at my manners. It seemed I'd left my brains back in my bedroll. "Might I ask a question?" 

Draxinusom smiled. "Of course, Elora," he said magnanimously. 

"Thanks," I drawled. Then, more seriously, "I was just wondering what you'd planned to do with Rudyom's wand once you'd got your hands - uhh, claws - on it?" 

His smile widened. "To say that _Rudyom_ was going to come with it. Our friends Jaana and Mariah had thought that the mage might have been able to find a way to blast a hole in the blackrock dome without - " 

" - blowing up the _whole _dome along with everyone in it." I nodded. "I see." 

"But to not know now if it would have been possible." Draxinusom shrugged his shoulders and wings. "To believe it would have been worth a try. On other news, those at Minoc have been the ones responsible for the ships the enemy now possess." 

"Too bad Owen isn't the one building them any more," I said with a grin at Julia. 

The tinker laughed. "Elora! If some of those floating wash-tubs _are _Owen's, I know exactly where to have them hit to make them collapse!" 

"They're building more," Lord British told us. "Whether to Owen's plans or someone else's." 

"But the ships that were in Minoc when the enemy arrived were _all _put to use." Draxinusom's hairless brows lowered. "To say I had as many ships in Britain fitted out and sent to Trinsic as was possible. To have burned the rest. We have five frigates, three sea-serpent cutters and two merchantmen here at the Isle of Fire." 

The wind started to pick up and I felt a definite chill. It was nearing the end of Autumn. Winter was coming early and it was likely to be unpleasant for both the enemy and us. "There was one other thing I wanted to ask, my friend," I said, meeting Draxinusom's glowing eyes. "It's about the silver serpent venom." 

The gargoyle nodded. "To assure you that nothing more will go wrong," he answered. "To be keeping the store under tight control. What happened at Trinsic will not happen again." 

Satisfied, I nodded, knowing that his word could be trusted. "If that's all then, I think I'll go back to bed." 

"Not a bad idea," Lord British said, "but I don't think I'd mind a stroll around Ambrosia before retiring, myself." He stroked his bearded chin. "I'm told it's a place of magic by night. Wouldst thou like to come, Drax?" 

"To accept, with thanks. _Ben an-lor-tym_, Elora and Julia." 

"_Ben an-lor-tym_, Draxinusom," I returned, then watched as he and Lord British left the battlements. 

"Good night," Julia said with a sigh. She rubbed her arms absently. "A bit cold for my tastes." 

I wrapped my cloak a bit tighter around myself. "It doesn't snow on islands, does it?" 

"It might up in the mountains." 

I grunted, then remembered something. "_You _are going to bed." 

"Good evening, ladies," Dupre interrupted. The knight had just ascended to the battlements and crossed over to us. The warriors streaming behind him moved to relieve those still on guard. 

"Sir Knight," I said dryly. 

He made a face at me. "Damned cold night for a patrol. Julia, _please _bring a good supply of torches back from Buccaneers' Den. If it isn't bad enough up here being so dark!" 

Julia gave his shoulder a consoling pat. "I'll try to remember." 

"Good. Until then, I'll just stand above the stairs so I can catch the heat of the forge." He walked us over and when we got there asked, "Aren't there any qualms about this journey now that the scrying shield is down? I mean, pirates aren't the most trustworthy of people… they could betray where we are to the Guardian."

I shook my head. "It doesn't matter. Now that the shield's down, the enemy probably already knows where we are. Or at least," I added, remembering my restless sleep, "the Guardian does."

Dupre let the matter drop and asked, "Art thou planning to be awake tomorrow, Elora?" 

"Maybe," I said with a smirk. "I may just sleep in again." 

He snorted, breath steaming in the cooling air. "Well if thou art, I could _really _use some help." 

"How so?" 

"We need experienced warriors, Elora. Most of ours stayed back to defend Trinsic, with the exception of the gargoyles. The gargoyle warriors - they call themselves _agra-lem_ - are good trainers, but the techniques they use are more difficult for humans to learn. I wanted to know if thou wouldst mind playing teacher for a while." 

I shrugged. "Sure, I'd be happy to help. Where and when?" 

"Just catch me here before the ninth hour. Thank thee." 

"Any time. Good night, Dupre. See you tomorrow." 

Julia and I descended the stone steps to the courtyard forge and walked toward the statue room. 

"And if thou dost ever get bored as a trainer," she was saying, "thou art always welcome as a sailor." 

I chuckled. "No offence, Julia, but I'd do almost anything to get out of an ocean voyage." 

"Ha! I've only seen thee get sea-sickness once!" 

"Once is _more _than enough." I gave her a grin. "Not that I don't love the sea. It's the floating." 

"Why seasickness?" she complained good-naturedly. "Why not air-sickness? By the Virtues, if even half of Iolo's stories about thee and thy magic carpet stunts are true -" 

"Hey, I want to state right now that I only did the double-inside-out-pinwheel-of-death-loop or _whatever _he calls it _once_." 

"Thou dost disappoint me, then." Julia laughed. "If _I_ were flying that thing, I'd be doing that trick on a regular basis! I'm pretty sure Iolo was trying his best to scare me with that story, but- " 

" -it ended up sounding like fun?" With a smirk, I said, "That's because _he_ was the one who dared me to do it." 

She missed a step. "He _didn't_!" 

"He made a bet with Dupre on who could keep his breakfast longest." 

"Stakes were ale again, I presume?" We stopped at the statue room and she shook her head. "Iolo won, right?" When I grinned, she added, "Did Dupre honour _this _wager?" 

"Before we even landed." 

She blinked. 

"He'd had an ale with his breakfast, you see, and- " 

Julia groaned. "Spare me. I think- " 

She was interrupted by a voice that spoke straight into my mind. 

__

"Avatar! Champion of Infinity, hear me!" 

I held up my hand to silence Julia and turned to face the statue of Courage. "I'm here." 

__

"Warriors have invaded the keep of Courage. Avatar, they seek to quench the Eternal Flame within. In the name of Valour, thou must stop them!" 

"How?" I demanded. 

__

"The bracer on thine arm can take thee there. First, touch the small white jewel that doth not touch the larger gem in the middle of the bracer. Then touch the central facet of the large jewel and the facet edged by the red jewel at the same time. I sense this will take thee to Serpent's Hold." 

"But isn't the bracer evil?" 

__

"Nay, Avatar. The bracer itself beareth no malice. Like so many other things, though, it can cause or be used for evil. Hurry!" 

"Serpent's Hold is under attack," I said to Julia. "I know how to teleport there." 

Julia touched the sword at her side. "Then let's go!" 

I shook my head. "Listen; there's not much time, I think. Go back to the battlements and tell Dupre to bring as many warriors as he can to the First Sanctuary. I need to get the Blacksword." Moving toward the statue of Truth, I added, "Then chase Richard and Draxinusom and tell them what's going on!" I touched the statue and entered the test. After passing through the illusionary wall, I sprinted for my room. 

Halfway there, I caught up with five guards from the patrol Dupre had just relieved. Two saluted when they recognised me. 

"We have a dangerous situation," I told them quickly. "I need your swords!" Then I was running again and they were following, their mail shirts jingling as we went. 

"Avatar!" one called. "Where are we going?" 

"Serpent's Hold!" 

***

  


Fifteen minutes was as long as I dared wait. Almost fifty warriors, human and gargoyle, along with Dupre and Katrina, crowded the First Sanctuary when I stood to face them with the Blacksword unsheathed in my hands. 

"We're ready, Elora," Dupre said tersely. 

"All right, everyone," I announced. "Listen up! We're going to Serpent's Hold by a teleportation spell. The keep is under attack and you're going to save the day." 

"What? Thou'rt not going to help?" A warrior yelled, and there was a ripple of laughter. 

"I'll do my best," I drawled. "Now, are you ready?" 

They roared their assent and I touched the bracer...then we all stood on the Isle of Deeds. 

We were standing on a stretch of grass not far from the keep. A few smouldering campfires dotted the ground nearby, but no one tended them. The roar of fighters could be clearly heard from up ahead. I pointed at the proud form of a stone castle to the north. Torches winked from the battlements and swarmed around the walls in the hands of enemy warriors. 

"Step one," I muttered. "Get inside." Time Stop wouldn't be much good here. We'd get past the enemy easily enough - provided the spell didn't wear off while we were still in the middle of them - but trying to open the heavy gates from the outside might prove troublesome. Unless I could see the winch. 

A group of soldiers sighted us from the assault on the Hold. About twenty of them broke off from the army and started toward us. 

"Go that way," I instructed a nearby warrior, pointing south. "There's a branch of Iolo's Bows on the eastern edge of town. See if there are any firearms and ammunition left and, if there is, come back here, grab some of our people and bring the weapons here." 

He saluted, "Avatar!" and ran off. 

"Not stealing are we, Elora?" Dupre smiled as he unsheathed his sword. 

"Avatars don't steal! They just...borrow. Besides, Iolo won't mind." I grinned at him and leaned on the Blacksword. Turning to half-face our people, I added in a soft voice, "Do these ones know how to fight?" 

"Most. Those that don't at least know which end to stick the enemy with." 

I rolled my eyes. "I'm glad you're _such _a good trainer. Excuse me a minute." Looking at the approaching enemy, I said, "Arcadion!" 

"Yes, Master?" the Blacksword's inhabitant replied. 

"Fire, please." 

"Your target, O Bringer of Ultimate Destruction?" 

"Right...there." I pointed him at the ground where the soldiers were about to cover. The sword glowed briefly, and then a snake-trail of flames sped across the ground in a straight line to the enemy. 

Just as I'd suspected, they stopped warily as it approached them, taking nothing more than a cautious step backwards as it stopped in their midst. 

And exploded. 

Soldiers flew in every direction as a billow of sooty flame shot up with a deep-toned detonation. 

"That will attract their attention, thou knowest," Katrina noted calmly. 

"I'm counting on it." To Dupre, I said, "Organise our people into a tight defence suitable for the terrain. We're not going to launch an all-out attack just yet." 

Katrina asked, "Why not?" but Dupre nodded. 

"If we draw enough of the enemy away from the keep," he said, "the knights can charge them from behind." 

"And they'll do much better attacking than defending." I looked up as ten Britannians hurried over, loaded down with bows, crossbows, arrows and bolts. "Oh _yes_," I murmured. "Perfect! Put the ammunition down here." 

"Those soldiers are coming back for more," Dupre said as my request was followed. 

I enchanted the ammo with a quick spell, picked up a heavy triple-crossbow and grinned viciously. "Nothing like one of these things to whittle down an advancing army." Sticking Arcadion point down in the ground, I raised my voice and said, "Anyone who knows how to use a bow or crossbow, arm up!" 

Fourteen stepped forward and suddenly became archers. In under a minute, we loaded our weapons and aimed at the seventeen Killorn soldiers stumbling in our direction, their orange tabards still smoking. Bowstrings creaked as they were pulled taut, and I sighted down my triple crossbow. 

"_Loose!_" 

Crossbows clacked and bowstrings sang. Seventeen shafts shot through the air and embedded themselves in enemy chests. Ten foes died instantly. The remaining seven remembered pressing engagements elsewhere and fled. 

A second group - larger than the first, though not by much - left their assault of the Hold and headed our way. 

"This could get very boring very quickly," I complained. "I don't know whether to be insulted by the paltry numbers they keep sending, or flattered they they even consider us to be a threat." 

"I think I'd _rather _have them in bite-sized chunks," Dupre remarked, scratching at his moustache. "I don't think I could stomach a full meal." 

"Dupre, thou soundest as if thou'rt likening the Guardian's army to an all-thou-canst-eat tavern!" Katrina said. 

"Of course. With the Guardian as dessert." 

I made a face. "Please. I don't even want to _think_ what he tastes like." I waved a hand, signaling my archers to get ready to fire again. "Wonder what kind of dish he'd make, though." 

The knight shrugged and pointed at the advancing foe. "I think they're getting a bit close." 

"_Loose_!" 

Twelve soldiers were shot down. As they fell backwards, those with bows let fly another volley of arrows and five more were killed. The next round, both bolts and arrows bounced off their targets without harming them. And sped back at _us._

I barely managed to raise an Energy Field before all fifteen bow or crossbow wielders were slain by their own weapons. All humour vanished as the shafts shattered against the invisible wall. Britannians ducked instinctively and I was no exception, even though I knew there was no immediate danger. "Steel!" I shouted, dumping the triple crossbow and picking up Arcadion. I heard the steely rasp as those who hadn't drawn weapons now did so. "Don't attack until I give the order." 

Dupre quickly ran a check over everyone's position then nodded to me. As the nine remaining soldiers closed in, he pointed out two large groups preparing to draw away from the main attack on the keep. 

"These soldiers are braver than their fellows," Katrina said, gesturing at the nine who had slowed as they drew still nearer. "Else there's not a brain among them." 

"They're not stupid," Dupre muttered. "Can't figure out why we're not running them when we have the advantage of numbers." He frowned as if something had just occurred to him. "Elora, why aren't we attacking?" 

"Some of those soldiers," I answered bluntly, "aren't soldiers." 

"Like the one in Nystul's room? How canst thou tell?" 

"A very strong hunch." 

There was a loud explosion from Serpent's Hold and a thick column of smoke rose from one of the eastern turrets, twisting high into the sky and staining the pristine glow of the moon Trammel a sickly yellow. At the same time, a loud cheer came from the sieging army, which was followed by the clatter of falling masonry. 

"That can't be good," Dupre muttered. 

The nine soldiers had faltered at the cheer and turned to look back. 

"_Now_!" I gasped, dropping the Energy Field. 

As one, the Britannian's surged forward with their weapons upraised. Four foes were cut down almost at once, the other five were quick to recover and retaliate even against these odds. 

"Which are daemons?" I asked Arcadion quickly. 

The Shade Blade vibrated, swung in my hands to point at a short, black-bearded man wielding a curved sword. "Him." 

"Just the one?" 

"Of this group, yes." 

That soldier looked straight at me, sneered and slashed at the two Britannians trying to kill him. Then he vanished, reappearing almost right next to me. 

Two of the other Killorn soldiers let out enraged cries and ran after him only to be stopped by Britannian steel. 

"Did you want something?" I asked him calmly. 

Dark eyes flicked to my right arm and widened at the sight of the bracer. Clear disbelief scrawled itself across his face as he stared at me. "The _Avatar_? _Ka-thra_?" 

"That's me," I drawled, watching from the corner of my eyes as the four human soldiers died. 

"Thou hast no place here! The Keep of Courage belongs to the Guardian!" 

"Ah, I think not." I gestured for everyone else to stand away. The daemon-soldier glanced around at them contemptuously, but when he looked at me I could see a deep fear in his eyes. Not of fear of _them_, but of me. I thought it a little strange. I'd never really inspired fear in the greater undead. A grudging respect, yes, some wariness...but no fear. Unless they were just too proud to show it. 

I realised that this daemon could be the ticket for drawing the attack away from the Hold. 

"Your master will never have this keep," I said. "And this should be good enough proof." Raising Arcadion, I took a threatening step forward. 

The soldier gave a startled screech, turned and blinked some distance away toward the Hold. When he started running back to enemy lines, I said to let him go. 

"The enemy will come to us," I told the Britannians, "and when they do, the knights can charge them from behind." 

"They will think we pose so great a threat?" a warrior asked doubtfully, and rightly so, for it seemed ludicrous that an army in excess of two thousand soldiers would worry about a small band of fifty. 

But they were discounting the fact that one among that fifty was the Avatar. 

"They will. Was anyone hurt just now?" 

A gargoyle had suffered a head wound. It wasn't too serious in itself, but since everyone here needed all his or her fighting skill, even a wound like that could prove to be a death sentence. 

Drawing out garlic, ginseng and spider silk, I touched the wound, gestured and intoned, "Mani." 

The wound healed as much as I could manage with the spell's limited power - barely a scar remained. 

"Now it's time to let the knights know we're here." Raising my arms, I added to Dupre and Katrina, "I learned this one from our esteemed Lord British. Bet Ort!" Tracing a symbol in the air with my right hand, I thrust the left into the sky and sent streamers of glittering, golden light high above us. When the fireworks exploded, a perfect Ankh appeared in the night sky to cast its bright, gold light across half the island. Shimmering silver highlights rippled across the edges as the air was filled with crackling and hissing noises, flecks of gold and silver falling away in sparkling clouds to indicate our position to Serpent's Hold...and the enemy. 

Shouts and cries rose from the army at the sight of the blazing Ankh. Without apparent order, many simply began running in our direction, seeing nothing more than an enemy behind their ranks. But when the daemon-soldier reached the main bulk of the opposing force, I felt a sudden disquiet. 

Then the entire enemy army on the Isle of Deeds turned in our direction and started to march. 

"That worked," Katrina said, her hands white-knuckled where she gripped her wooden crook. "Now what?" 

"Now I make their evening a little more exciting," I replied, trying to keep a tremor of doubt from my voice. With the Ankh fireworks still shining above me, I incanted another spell. "Vas Ort Hur!" 

With a rumbling sound, a dense black cloud came into being directly over the enemy host. There was nothing slow about its formation - it simply appeared. Then a blinding flash of incandescent lightning struck amidst the enemy ranks and a clap of thunder shook the ground. 

"_Avatar? To ask if it is really you?"_

I half-closed my eyes to concentrate on the telepathic voice._ "Sir Horffe? Yes, it's me. How go things on the inside?"_

__

"To think things could be better. To say you diverted the attention of the invaders just in time - there's a massive breach in the east side of the southern wall. To notice also that you have put yourself in danger by saving us." 

__

"Yes. How soon can you mount an offensive against these Guardian-lovers?" 

__

"Now that they are withdrawing from the Hold, to think not long." 

__

"Then move quickly, Sir Knight, and don't mind the magic at play here. It won't harm you." 

__

"To go now!" 

I let out a deep breath and exchanged a look with Dupre and Katrina. "They're coming." 

Both friends glanced at the advancing foe with bleak faces and didn't add that the knights weren't the only ones. 

Using Arcadion, I created two more explosions in the already confused army. The combination of lighting and fire and thunder wreaked absolute havoc. Soldier flung themselves left and right to avoid getting fried inside their own armour, tripped over their dead or merely ran in a blind panic. 

"Why not create a Death Vortex?" asked Dupre in a tense voice. 

With a wave of soldiers coming our way, I knew how he felt. "Too difficult to control," I said. "It would probably turn and engulf the knights as well as the enemy." 

The first few soldiers running ahead of their main forces reached us and hurled themselves against us with frenzied screams of "_Guardian_!" I ducked under a scythe-like blade and tore open a man's chest with a single precise motion. Kicking him backwards as blood fountained from his wound, I thrust at a second soldier. She parried and sliced at my left side, which I avoided easily. When she turned to block Dupre's blow, I brought the Blacksword up from right to left then straight right, taking the soldier's head off. 

Dupre wiped some splattered gore from his face. "Thanks," he said sarcastically. 

"Sorry," I said, rubbing my eyes. "I'm more tired than I thought. I'll be fine," I added as he gave me a worried look. 

The knight roared, "Form up, people!" and the Britannians hurried to comply before the next Killorn soldiers reached us. "There's too many of them," he whispered to me. "Thy storm is doing well, but there must be at least two thousand of the bastards left. How can we win?" 

"I have one plan." From the Hold, there was the distant sound of the gates being opened and the thunder of hooves. I couldn't see it, though, and was surprised enough that I could _hear_ it. Quickly, I pulled garlic, ginseng, mandrake root, nightshade and blood moss from my belt pouch and fused the reagents together. Putting the mixture in a safe place, I met Dupre's eyes and said, "Mass Death." 

He closed his eyes briefly and sighed. 

"The knights will get here soon, but then we must get everyone back into the keep." 

"Thou canst not simply cast the spell?" 

I shook my head. "It's a bit like Death Vortex - difficult to control. It won't kill _friends_, but it _will _kill people I don't know, including most of our people here, our knights and the enemy." Picking more reagents from my pouch, I added, "But I can still curse some of them. Vas Des Sanct!" Targeting the middle of the army, I let the spell fly. Anyone within the area of the spell's effect would immediately suffer loss of agility and skill in fighting. It would aid the Serpent's Hold knights immensely. 

But the enemy were still going to get here first. 

"It's time to attack," I stated grimly, watching the inexorable approach of the Guardian's army. The knights had already reached their back and were hacking their way through, warhorses causing equal damage as they reared and plunged. Quickly, I cast a Mass Protection spell over our group from the Isle of Fire and felt a familiar pain in my chest when the energy was released. "Restore my powers, Arcadion." 

The Blacksword glowed and a rush of energy infused me. "I hunger," the daemon growled, though blood already stained the length of his blade. 

I looked at the advancing enemy, well within range of arrows and bolts we dared not fire. Step by step getting closer... "You'll get fed soon enough." I threw two wide Sleep Fields to the left and right, which would force the enemy to either go around them or suffer the obvious consequences. Then I used Arcadion to hurl another explosion between the fields. "Virtues be with us, Britannia!" I shouted, gripping the Blacksword firmly with both hands. "_ATTACK!_" 

We ran forward to intercept those attempting to pass through the bottleneck created by the sleep fields and twisting columns of fire. Not even those who had entered the fields were spared. Soldier after soldier fell with agonised screams until all three obstacles I'd created vanished in a flash of pain. 

Someone had dispelled them. 

Quickly, I caught both my breath and my balance before plunging into the milling ranks of the enemy; my eyes firmly fixed on the forms of the embattled knights fighting astride their tall steeds. Dupre and Katrina were stuck to my sides like glue, both fighting to clear a path for those following behind. 

Then we were adrift in a fire-lit, night-dark sea of orange-tabarded enemies. Bolts of lightning rained down from above, the ground trembled at the almost continuous roar of thunder, screams tore the air and the stench of burning flesh was strong. Steel flashed in the erratic light, flying droplets of blood stood out ruby orbs, sweat and tears like diamonds. 

Metal slashed my face. Dashing blood from my eyes I charged forward and narrowly avoiding slipping on the blood-slick grass. The soldier fell back with a startled look, desperately defending himself from my sudden attack. I lunged. The Blacksword sheared through his mail shirt and emerged dripping from his back. Pulling at the sword, I found it it wouldn't come. Stuck in the dead soldier's ribcage. Bracing my foot against the body, I heaved, but to no avail. "Arcadion, return!" I commanded, ducking under a sword-stroke. 

The Blacksword shimmered with a violet glow then vanished from the soldier's corpse, reappearing in my hands. Shifting it to my left hand, I kicked the body aside and grabbed a discarded hand-axe. Finding the loopy ropes of someone's misplaced guts twisted around the wooden haft made me gag, but I gritted my teeth and shook it off. 

I hacked my way through the enemy, sword and axe whirling in harness as we cut deep into the army, making straight for the approaching knights. There were screams and shrieks of pain as I passed through, my weapons smashing heads to pulp, tearing limbs from bodies and ripping gaping holes in every Killorn tabard. 

Dodging an axe-blow to my head, I threw my axe into my opponent's chest and stepped past him to engage another, the Blacksword in both hands again. Something wet struck my face and I quickly dashed it away before it could run into my eyes then lunged forward and stabbed a foe in the shoulder. Seizing the haft of the mace that whirled at me in retaliation, I tore it free from my opponent's grasp and used it to smash his head in. Then I pulled Arcadion free and took another step forward, engaging two more soldiers. 

Both fell as the knights rode them down and moved to circle us in a protective ring. 

I took the opportunity to heal everyone with a Restoration spell, then cast Mass Might. 

"It's good...to see...thee, Avatar," a human knight panted. She raised the visor of her helmet and tried to calm her restive horse. "What are...thine orders?" 

"We need to get back to the keep!" I shouted above a sudden roar of thunder. "I can give us a good start, so just say when thou'rt ready!" 

"We're ready, Avatar! The sooner we get out...of here the better!" 

I nodded then incanted, "Vas In Flam Grav!" 

Fire blossomed at the feet of every foe in the field. I winced as the number of pained screams escalated, echoing through the storm clouds above, but hardened my heart. They were the enemy - it was either them or us. 

"I hate this," I whispered. 

Nobody heard me. 

"_To the Hold!_" the knight bellowed, and we were fighting again. 

The field was completely lit up by the gouts of crimson flame and streaks of lightning. Many soldiers limped or bore livid burn marks on unprotected skin, others were barely touched, and few unwounded. Even so, there were a lot of them and we were struggling for every hand-span of ground. Most of the knights had forsaken their steeds and now fought on foot, though the warhorses continued to lash out with their iron-shod hooves at anyone foolish enough to approach them. 

Fuzzy darkness clouded the edges of my vision and it was hard to breathe with the cloying, sick-sweet smell of roasting human flesh and blood. Combined with that was a tight feeling in my chest, a throbbing pain whenever my heart beat or I drew breath. I knew it was because I'd pushed myself casting too many spells and the choice to do so was now costing me. Only my superb skills as a swordswoman kept me going and focussed. 

Both my arms were blood-soaked to the elbow. Crimson rivulets ran down inside my leather gauntlets to mingle with the sweat on my palms. As I claimed another life more blood splashed across me, but this was no time for Compassion. Not yet. Now I had to play my part as a killer. 

A touch on the edge of my mind warned me someone was trying to take over the Magic Storm. I fought back, struggling to keep my mind with this psychic battle as well as the physical one around me, but there was more than one mind pitted against me and none of them were human. 

My opponent saw an opening and lunged, his spear low. I twisted aside, gasping as steel sliced a shallow wound across my side. The Blacksword came down in a dark blur to shatter the spear haft, then lashed out again to shear the soldier almost in two at the waist. 

Pulling Arcadion free again, I ducked a sword blade and felt the storm shift. 

Lightning lanced down and incinerated a tall knight barely two metres to my right. 

"Arcadion, restore me!" 

The daemon, drunk on the carnage and bloodshed, let out a primal howl as the Blacksword flared brightly and power flowed into me. 

But not enough of it. Killing humans with no magical talent wouldn't increase Arcadion's powers; it would only sate his appetite. The small measure of energy he'd just given me was all I had left to work with. 

Gritting my teeth, I whirled and slew two more foes, ignoring the sound of tearing flesh and bones grating against steel. Then I sent my mind into the Magic Storm and attacked those who had turned it against the Britannians. 

Five daemonic minds rallied against me in the dense clouds. I crushed two with the mental equivalent of a Swordstrike - spinning needles of pure, chill-ice energy that tore defences and minds to shreds. The other three threw spells back. I brushed each one aside with ease at first, then with growing difficulty as half my attention was drawn back to the lethal battle at Serpent's Hold. 

Finally, I abandoned the mental combat through the act of canceling the storm. The clouds dispersed as if by a fresh wind, but the sky was still cloaked by the roiling columns of greasy black smoke. 

Now I could see how close the stone walls of Serpent's Hold were. We were within range of the archers on the battlements. Although these archers still loosed shafts at the enemy, they kept their aim well away from the Britannians striving to reach the safety of the keep. 

Abruptly, I found myself trying to break past three soldiers blocking my way. Throwing a Paralyse spell on the left foe, I sidestepped the thrust of the right one and smashed Arcadion against the side of his helmet. He staggered into his companion and I drew back the Blacksword to kill them both when pain exploded in my right shoulder. Giving vent to a sulfurous curse at my carelessness, I wrenched myself free and gripped my sword tighter with my left hand, spinning to defend myself. 

It was the soldier I'd tried to paralyse, and from the wicked red light in her eyes, it was also a daemon. 

"_Die, Avatar!_" she screamed, lashing at me with a bloodstained sword. 

Bringing Arcadion across in an answering blow, I shattered her blade, reversed my own and thrust backwards to dispatch the soldier sneaking up behind me, then kicked the daemoness in the head. The Blacksword was wrenched from my grasp, but I didn't need a weapon to fight. Ducking, I drove my left fist into the creature's stomach and spun, extending a leg to kick her feet out from under her. 

She landed hard and snarled, rolling aside as a Britannian tried to relieve her of her head. Then she cast a bolt of fire at me. In avoiding it and then the attack of another soldier, I was struck by a second fireball. 

Biting down hard on a cry of pain as the flames seared my already maimed right shoulder, I blinked back tears and advanced as she stood and tried to slash my face with her broken sword. Leaning aside, I grabbed her arm, got my shoulder under her and threw her to the ground before crushing her neck with a well-placed kick. 

"_Elora, keep moving!_" Dupre shouted from up ahead. 

Seizing the Blacksword I hurried forward, claiming more lives as I went. Katrina was suddenly beside me again, her crook broken to the length of a quarterstaff. 

"Thine arm," she shouted. 

"I'll make it," I replied, plunging Arcadion into another heart. My shoulder burned painfully and I did my best to ignore it. "Watch your side!" 

The shepherdess spun and cracked her shortened weapon across an enemy neck, breaking it instantly. 

I killed another soldier who tried to take her from behind, wincing as the action jarred my shoulder. 

Katrina urged me even closer to the Hold. "Heal thyself!" 

"No - I need what's left for the Mass Death spell or I won't make it!" 

She blocked a sword and evaded another, not bothering to answer. 

I skewered a soldier, ignoring the blood that splashed over me in favour of a wide-eyed roan warhorse that suddenly reared up beside me with a frenzied animal-scream. Sharp hooves lashed out, one glancing against my sore shoulder. A guttural snarl escaped my lips as bright sparks exploded behind my eyes and a roaring sound reverberated within my skull. 

"Stand!" I shouted, half-blind. 

The horse's ears swiveled forward and he bared his teeth, rearing again. 

Evading, I again commanded, "_Stand_!" 

"_Avatar!_" 

That was no Britannian voice. I suddenly realised I was cut off from the others, alone in a small circle of calm where beyond that, soldiers either stumbled around dwindling pillars of flame and smoke or tried to decide which way their adversaries had gone. 

I could barely see them myself. A rain of arrows kept pursuing soldiers away as the small group of Britannians pelted toward the rapidly opening portcullis. Katrina, Dupre and three others fought a furious backguard action, but the eyes of my two friends kept flicking over to scan the army for a familiar face. 

Seven soldiers ran at me, weapons whistling above their heads. 

The warhorse's nostrils flared and he reared again, screaming a battle cry. 

"_STAND_!" I roared and, grabbing a fistful of mane with my left hand, vaulted into the saddle and gave the animal a hard kick. "_Yah_!" 

The stallion tossed his head and plowed forward at a dead gallop almost at once. I was almost thrown when he lurched to one side, his teeth tearing at a soldier. 

Shifting the Blacksword to my left hand, I swept the weapon out and cleaved a skull, hacked off a hand that tried to drag me from my seat...another...another...too many. Beset on all sides, my horse stopped, rearing up with a scream of rage as hands grasped at his bridle and rider. 

Too many. 

I needed a good distraction and I needed one _now_…or I wouldn't make it. 

"_Kal Vas Xen_!" I shouted, sending my will to bring forth the most powerful creature I could with my waning energies. 

A deafening, smashing sound - as of a giant mountain of glass being shattered - rang in my ears alongside screams of terror. 

Fully ten feet high, a massive balron bellowed its fury. Flaming blue eyes fixed on the panic-stricken soldiers and in its hands was a mighty whip that cracked the air like a band of black lightning. 

That got the attention of the enemy. 

Grimly, I kicked the stallion again and simply hung on, keeping low as an arrow zipped past my ear from the Hold and a ball of flames hurtled over my head from the enemy to strike the wall of Serpent's Hold. 

Dupre and Katrina ducked as brickwork fell near them and waved frantically for me to hurry. 

__

"Get inside!" I yelled. _"Get everyone out of sight! I'm going to cast the spell!_" 

"_We cannot leave thee, Elora_!" Dupre shouted back. _"We're thy friends! We must stand with thee!"_

The warhorse ran down the last soldier in my path and kept galloping, ears laid back and neck lathered. "_You must warn those inside! Go!_" 

The two turned to face each other and I could see they were having a heated discussion. Finally, Katrina cast me a last glance then ran through the open portcullis. 

"_They're coming_!" Dupre yelled as he pointed his sword behind me. 

Suddenly, I caught sight of a fallen Britannian. Reining in, I swung down from the stallion and spared a glance over my shoulder. 

They had bested the balron and were chasing me. 

"Quickly, get on the horse!" It was a wingless gargoyle I helped to his feet. He had a horrible wound in his lower chest, but it would only prove fatal if it was left untended. 

"Avatar- " he gurgled, then went into a fit of coughing. 

I pushed him into the saddle and made sure he held the reins. "_In-por_!" I shouted to him, smacking the stallion's rump with the flat of the Blacksword. I waited long enough to make sure he made it to the gate. Dupre caught him as he fell from the saddle. 

Thrusting Arcadion point down in the steaming, blackened earth, I met Dupre's agonised gaze calmly and said, "Go." He couldn't have heard it, but there'd be no mistaking the formation of the word on my lips. 

The knight grasped the gargoyle firmly in his strong arms and stumbled through the gates into the safety of Serpent's Hold. 

Breathing a sigh of relief, I turned to face the enemy. All one thousand-some-odd of them. I had a very good reason for not wanting even my dearest friends at my side now. 

I didn't want them to watch me die. 

Even now I could feel it. I'd exhausted my magical reserves, drained some of my vital energies as well. My heart was beating unnaturally slow, my breathing was unlaboured...every detail of the advancing army stood out in stark detail...moved in slow motion...and all I could hear were my heart and breath, the two sounding in unison as I pondered what I was about to do... 

I'd seen the huge breach in the eastern side of the southern wall of the Hold. With the entire army running it as they were running me, Serpent's Hold - and the Flame of Courage - would fall. 

There was only one thing left to do. 

Stripping off my gloves, I knelt beside the Blacksword, eyes fixed unwaveringly on the slow approach of the foe. My right hand rested flat on the blood-soaked soil of Britannia, the left pulled forth the mixture I'd prepared for the spell, bloodied fingers clenching around the reagents as I extended my closed fist towards the enemy. 

Eyes still firmly open, I poured every ounce of will, power and heart I had into the two simple syllables of an incantation that would spell the death of every living creature I could see, then spoke them. 

"Vas Corp." 

With a great rush of ether, the very air exploded into a brilliance of light incandescent. Moving so swiftly that it almost seemed instantaneous, the brightness surged out in all directions like some massive, white wave, and I found myself swept along within it - the last vestiges of both my power and my life-force having caused it to be. Formed of my very being, my need and resolve to defend Britannia to my last breath, I suddenly realised that I _was _the spell. Reaching out with blindingly white arms, I rushed upon the enemy and tore through their ranks with more power than a gale-force wind. Each soldier, human or daemon, flew backwards as though struck by some titanic hammer, and I passed them by to hurl my huge, shimmering form upon those behind them who watched in a kind of rapt terror at my inevitable, fatal approach. 

Then it was over. The dazzling light faded and, as a complete, utter silence greeted me, I suddenly found myself looking through my own eyes again. Night's darkness, although quick to return, did nothing to hide the fact that the field before me was absent of any living creature. Over two thousand enemy dead, and more than half that slain by me. 

I was overcome by a dizzying sense of relief. 

Serpent's Hold was safe...the enemy were dead... 

As I felt the somewhat distant sensation of my head hitting the ground, I suddenly realised that I was, too...   
  


__

To be continued in Book Two of 

__

The Black Ankh…


	3. Interlude

Interlude

Interlude

A blast of sheer force knocked Katrina against one of the stone crenellations atop the battlements. Stunned, she opened her eyes and winced as a blinding white light seared into them a brief instant before she could see nothing more than a blackness darker than night itself. 

For a panic-stricken moment, she thought she was blind. 

Then her sight returned. Blinking rapidly to be rid of a blurred tinge to her vision, she jumped to her feet and looked down over the grounds below the Hold for Elora. 

And stared. 

The Avatar stood where moments ago she'd been kneeling. It could have been a trick of the night, but Katrina thought she could see a strange, black mist eddying around her at waist height. Her back was turned; she faced a field littered with over two thousand dead. Not one soldier had survived. 

Katrina felt a wave of relief and drew breath to call out to everyone it was safe to get up when the entire keep lurched, jolting her against the battlements again. Ignoring the exclamations of pain and surprise that came from those crouched nearby, the shepherdess watched in horror as flares of flame-like light rose from the battlefield...and from each, a dead soldier rose to his or her feet, turned into a daemon and started towards the Avatar. 

Elora pulled the Blacksword free of the ground and lifted it above the mist, her stance becoming defensive. When the first daemon reached her, she charged forward without even waiting for its attack. Three head and two chest strokes later, the monster was dead and two more were closing fast, their vast wings churning a gale of death. 

Katrina saw her friend stagger slightly as she raised her sword again, her left hand moving to touch her right shoulder. Turning, the shepherdess grabbed her broken crook and limped for the stairs. "Dupre!" she shouted. "_Dupre_!" 

"Katrina!" 

Following his voice down the stairs, she found the knight rubbing his eyes beside the open portcullis. "Elora's alive! Quick she's being attacked!" 

Staring blankly in her direction, Dupre replied, "Alive? Wait, _attacked_? But the Mass Death spell -" 

"Daemons!" 

Dupre swore. "Of all the damned inconvenient times - I can't see! Katrina, thou wilt have to handle this thyself! Hurry - after casting that spell she likely won't last long." 

Katrina hauled two knights to their feet. "It's safe now! Get up and follow me, quickly!" She broke into a limping run out onto the field, the two knights and two gargish warriors following closely. 

"By the Serpent!" one of the knights exclaimed. "The Avatar killed _all _of them?" 

Katrina couldn't help staggering for a second when she looked around while running. Bodies sprawled everywhere, motionless where they'd fallen, weapons still gripped in stiff fingers. The ground was absolutely covered by gold-tabarded corpses, and, in places, the colours of a warrior or knight of Britannia stood out amidst the dead of Killorn Keep. Katrina carefully regained her balance and bypassed a pool of steaming pitch. "It was a very powerful spell she used." 

"To think the Avatar is a very powerful person!" a gargoyle corrected. 

"To where do we run?" the other asked, and with good reason. 

For there was not a single person standing beyond the walls of Serpent's Hold. 

Katrina faltered in her run, not believing what she was seeing. Where had Elora gone? And the daemons? 

In the dim light, she saw something else. 

"There, where that black mist is." 

They reached the spot quickly and as they approached, the mist dispersed with a sighing sound to reveal the Avatar lying dead on the blood-streaked grass. 

Katrina felt her throat close as if someone had clenched a fist around it. "_I must have imagined it. She died when she cast the spell._" Save a wound in the right shoulder, the side, a slash across the left cheekbone, cuts on both arms, she looked fine. She bore no physical wound that would have killed her. Casting about, Katrina saw no dead daemons, though the denizens of Hell rarely left anything more behind them than a scorch-mark. Of those, the field had plenty. 

"Who is the resident healer here?" she asked softly. 

"The Lady Leigh," a knight replied. 

"Run back to the Hold, if thou wouldst. Tell her she hath an urgent patient." 

The knight looked at the Avatar's still form, nodded once and set off. The two gargoyles lifted Elora's body and started walking after him. The second knight stayed nearby, looking with amazement at the obliterated army. 

Katrina closed her eyes, one hand touching her forehead as she willed herself not to break down. 

"_Thou hast seen many terrible things, Katrina,_" she reminded herself harshly. "_The destruction of thine home in Magincia, the death of thy family, the chaos wrought by the Shadowlords_..." 

It meant nothing. She'd never seen the Avatar die. 

Her eyes started to burn with tears. "Sir Knight - seest thou a strange sword nearby? One with a black hilt set with a glowing blue jewel?" 

A moment of silence. "Nay, lady. There is no weapon like that around here. Not that I can see, that is." 

"What? Art thou sure?" She wiped her eyes and looked for herself. 

The Blacksword was gone. 

"_I dreamed it...didn't I_?" 

"Lady, we should return to the Hold. I must needs report to my commander." 

Katrina gave the area a last glance then sighed heavily, an irrational feeling of dread coming over her. "Yes. Let's go back." 

*** 

  
  


"It's nothing to worry about," Dupre said, his reassuring tone belied by the shadow of doubt in his eyes. "She's died before." 

"The same way?" Katrina asked, her voice hoarse. 

Elora was laid out on a clean bed, her wounds dressed and the blood washed from her skin and armour. Her eyes were still open. They stared at the roof with a kind of calm determination or resolve. 

It made Katrina feel cold. 

"Her manner of death will make it harder to Resurrect her, there's no doubt," Lady Leigh said as she prepared reagents for the spell. A petite, blond woman, her face was drawn at the strain she'd been under during the siege. 

Both companions hoped she had enough strength left. 

"But I need only restore her life," the healer went on. "Rest will restore her mana." 

"Art thou sure?" Katrina asked for the tenth time that evening. 

She smiled tiredly. "Why dost thou not watch and see?" Approaching the body, she cast the reagents across it and intoned, "In Mani Corp!" 

Like a glittering dust, the reagents settled over Elora's still form and Leigh touched her forehead. The dust flared brightly for a few seconds then faded. 

Elora didn't stir. 

"It didn't work," Katrina said after checking for a pulse. 

"Oh, the _spell _worked, Milady," Leigh replied, her voice slightly throaty from exertion. "There's no denying that, but I don't know why she's not alive!" She frowned. "Her spirit mustn't have been as nearby as I'd thought..." 

"Try again," Dupre said. 

Leigh gave him a sharp glance. "Sir Knight -" 

"Please." 

The healer sighed. "Very well." Picking up reagents, she added, "I'll try it for longer - look a bit farther afield. In Mani Corp!" The dust formed over Elora's body again and shone for almost a full minute, fading when Leigh removed her hand. 

They waited a few seconds. Elora remained staring sightlessly at the roof. 

"Why didst thou stop?" Dupre asked softly. 

"Others need my help," Leigh said. "I cannot spend all I have on one person." 

"This _person_ -" he began hotly. 

"- is the Avatar, I know!" Leigh gathered her reagents and medical instruments. Gently, she reached over and closed Elora's eyes. "And as for that, would she approve of me wasting mine efforts on her whilst others die?" 

Dupre couldn't meet her eyes. "Forgive me. She's my friend." 

"I know that, Sir Dupre." She sighed and rubbed her eyes. "But many of my other patients are _my _friends. Some are even my family. I'm sorry, but if the Avatar doth not return when I call her, it's not because of me." She slipped out through the door. "I'll try again later, have I the strength." 

Later that morning, Dupre penned a hasty message to Lord British and asked Sir Horffe, the winged gargoyle knight, to fly it to the Isle of Fire. 

Horffe accepted and took wing immediately. 

*** 

  
  


The second day after the battle, two thousand five hundred and seventy-one enemy dead were stripped of their arms and armour then burned in a massive pyre visible for many leagues. 

Dupre busied himself helping repair the Hold. Katrina aided the wounded, noting that of the fifty who had come from the Isle of Fire, three of twenty gargoyles and fifteen of thirty humans had survived. Of the one hundred and fifty knights that had rode to assist them, eighty would live to fight again - more if Leigh's strength in her Healings and Resurrections kept up. 

Elora remained silent. 

*** 

  
  


On the third day, Sir Horffe reached the Isle of Fire and delivered his message to Lord Draxinusom, who passed it on to Lord British. 

"'Dead'?" he read in an uncomprehending voice. "This cannot be right! I would know had she died!" 

"To remind you that you felt something that night on Ambrosia," Draxinusom said. 

"Yes, but that lasted for only a few seconds." Lord British shook his head in bewilderment. "I could almost swear to thee that she is alive at this moment, Drax!" He passed a hand across his face. "I must have been dreaming when I thought she contacted me to say all was well." 

"Sir Horffe would not lie." 

"I know. I'd recognise Dupre's scrawl anywhere, in any case. Still, the matter is serious. Give me a minute." Closing his eyes, he sent his thoughts south to scry the Isle of Deeds. A quarter hour later, he drew in a deep breath and looked at Draxinusom with concern in his eyes. "I found Dupre. I must go to Serpent's Hold at once." 

"To come with you." 

Lord British started to refuse then paused, remembering that the gargoyle king was a powerful spellcaster among his own people, and also Elora's friend. "Thank thee." Turning, he said to the guard next to him, "Timmon, locate Lord Iolo and Lady Mariah and bid them meet us on the battlements of the fort at once. Then find Sir Sentri and - " he quickly added the words 'Keep an eye on things whilst I tend to this' and his signature to the end of Dupre's letter. " - give this to him." 

The guard took the letter, saluted and departed. 

Later, four humans and seven gargoyles flew south from the Isle of Fire. 

*** 

  
  


On the fourth day, people started asking where the Avatar was. Dupre got sick of pretending everything was fine and went to the taproom to get drunk. He ended up staring into the brimming tankard until the foam vanished and the ale went flat. 

Elora didn't drink. 

It didn't seem appropriate to get drunk in her memory. 

"_Don't think like that. She's not dead until she's burned or buried. Have hope, like she did._" 

Pushing back his chair, he left his untouched drink on the table and went to the battlements to stare north until he could see nothing beyond the tears in his eyes. 

*** 

  
  


On the fifth day, Lord British strode into the courtyard, Draxinusom, Iolo, Mariah, Sir Horffe and some other winged gargoyles at his heels. Walking straight up to Dupre and Katrina, he asked, "Where?" 

"This way." Dupre led them to the room where Elora's body rested. "Thank the Virtues thou'rt here," he said softly as they went. "How long would it have to be before nothing could be done?" 

"Forever," the king replied firmly. "Her spirit is tied to Britannia as tightly as mine own. She would never leave it unless..." breaking off, he became silent. 

"_Unless she didn't want to come back_?" Dupre thought. "_No, that's impossible. Unless something was stopping her. By the Abyss, why am I already thinking of her in the past tense_?" Dupre opened the door and everyone filed in. He closed it behind himself. 

"Your Majesty," Lady Leigh said, sweeping a low curtsy. 

Both Lord British and Lord Draxinusom inclined their heads to her. 

"- ies," she corrected herself hurriedly, flushing. 

"There will be no mistakes," Lord British said as he stood by Elora's head. He paused a minute, looking down at the Avatar's still face as if remembering something. Then he shook himself and said, "We cast the spell now. I need not ask ye to give all ye have. Drax, Mariah...Lady, if thou wouldst?" 

Draxinusom stood at the foot of the bed, Mariah and Leigh on either side. 

Lord British held out the prepared reagents. "In Mani Corp!" 

Glittering, the mixture settled over the Avatar like a fine veil and the healer and three mages performed the gestures of the spell, right hands finally coming to rest on the lifeless body before them. 

The dust shone. 

Nothing else happened. 

"Keep thine energies on her," Lord British said, his jaw hardening. 

So they did. 

After five minutes, Iolo pushed his way into the circle, repeated the gestures of the spell and laid his right hand on one of Elora's shoulders. "Let me give what I can. In Mani Corp." 

The dust brightened as if it were becoming white hot. 

Ten minutes. 

Fifteen. 

Dupre caught Lady Leigh as she slumped, spent. Katrina closed her eyes and invoked the aid of every virtue known to Britannia. 

Twenty. 

Twenty-five. 

Half an hour. 

Katrina answered the door as a servant knocked. 

"Milady, I came to see if anyone wanted drinks." 

The shepherdess glanced over at the four near Elora and dismissed them immediately. She looked at Dupre, who shook his head in an almost imperceptible 'no'. 

"Milady?" 

"Uh, a glass of water for the Lady Leigh, please." 

"Of course." 

Katrina closed the door. 

An hour. 

Mariah gave a moan of pain and collapsed. As Katrina helped the red-haired mage to a chair beside the comatose Lady Leigh, Dupre took her place at Elora's side. 

The knight met her eyes briefly, but said nothing as he stretched out his right hand to touch Elora's arm and be drawn into a spell deeper than any he'd ever partaken in. 

Katrina whispered, "Come back to us, Elora." 

The dust brightened even more, Elora vanishing completely in the intense light. 

An hour and seventeen minutes. 

There was a flash of black iridescence from within the white light. As one, Lord British, Draxinusom, Iolo and Dupre were flung away from the bed to slam against walls or furniture, either hurting them or knocking them senseless. The light vanished and Elora's body remained. 

Katrina felt a shiver run through her. 

The Avatar's eyes had opened. 

*** 

  
  


On the sixth day, they tried to remove the bracer. It resisted all attempts, both magical and mundane. Nothing they tried made it open. 

After a fruitless repetition of the Resurrection spell, they waited or rested until the sun went down, and Lord British called a Seance. 

The words of the spell left his mouth and the candles at each corner of the bed contracted to pinpoints of light 

"Elora," the king said, "if thou canst hear me, speak!" 

A weird, whispering noise filled the room. It sounded like muted conversation in some alien language, which passed between innumerable speakers. 

The Avatar's lips parted. 

"_Breathe_," Dupre said softly. 

Then the whispering ceased. 

The candles flared back to full luminescence and Lord British gasped as if he'd been struck. Seizing one of the candlesticks for balance, he sagged against it and drew a shockingly weak breath. 

"Richard?" Mariah asked hesitantly. 

The monarch shook his head wearily. "I don't know. She...didn't answer. My magic hath done all it can." 

For a minute, no one said anything. Then Dupre muttered something that sounded like, "To the Abyss with magic!", jumped astride the bed to kneel above Elora and started thumping her chest with both hands as one would do to a person who had drowned. "Someone breathe into her mouth!" he ordered. 

Katrina opened Elora's mouth, pinched her nose shut and breathed into her lungs three times. 

Dupre started thumping her chest again. "Damn thee, Elora, _breathe_!" he commanded hoarsely, never slowing his rythematic action. "Katrina, now!" 

Flinging her hair aside, Katrina repeated her three breaths, then Dupre kept up his thumping. 

"_BREATHE_!" he shouted. "By the Abyss, Avatar, thou hast never surrendered to anything in thy life, now _FIGHT_! _BREATHE_!" 

Katrina stumbled away from the bed, unable to see anything as tears filled her eyes. 

Dupre did the breathing himself then thumped Elora's chest again, this time with a full forced punch. "_BREATHE_!" A second punch. A third. A fourth. 

The others watched in silence, too stricken to speak. 

"_Elora_! Thou art letting the Guardian win! Is that what thou _wantest_?" Three more blows to the chest, Elora's body jerking in response to each as it had to every other. 

Draxinusom caught the knight's fist as it drew back for an eighth. "To stop," he said softly. "To be over." 

Dupre closed his eyes and bent his head, tears flowing down his face as he panted for breath. 

Elora lay unmoving. Her lifeless green eyes stared straight up, mouth still slightly open, an unmistakable pallor staining her skin. 

"She's dead," Mariah whispered, her eyes brimming. 

Dupre choked back a sob. "No, she can't die!" Tearing his hand free of Draxinusom's gentle grasp, he slammed his fist into Elora's chest again. "_Fight, Avatar_!" And again. "_FIGHT_!" Opening his fist, he backhanded her across the face once...twice... "_FIIIIIIGHT!_" 

She looked up at him expressionlessly. 

"Damn thee, Avatar, _FIGHT_" he yelled, striking her chest as hard as he could. 

Nothing. Not a blink, not a breath, not a heartbeat. 

Dupre stared at her for a few seconds, then the strength suddenly seemed to go out of him. Falling to one side of the bed, the great knight drew his knees up to his chest, wrapped his arms around them and wept. 

Iolo silently passed his hand over Elora's face to close the sightless eyes, tears streaming unhindered down his leathery cheeks and into his grey-white beard. 

Lord British undid the chain of the golden Ankh from around her neck, his eyes no drier than those of the companions. He would hold the amulet until the time of the cremation came, then consign it to the flames with the Avatar. "It's time to say goodbye." 

*** 

  
  


On the seventh day, Dupre found Iolo sitting alone in Elora's room, a lute resting silent in his arms. 

The bard looked up at him with red-rimmed eyes as he entered. "I've lost my music," he said softly. 

Dupre sank wearily into a chair and rubbed his eyes. "Mayhap thou didst leave it in the taproom - " 

"No. I mean, I've lost my _music_." 

Dupre said nothing. 

Iolo sighed. "Dost thou remember she gave me this lute for one of my birthdays? She and Gwenno made it together with their own hands - almost went mad trying to keep what they were doing a secret." He ran a hand gently over the runes engraved in the neck of the instrument. "I've played more songs on this thing than I care to remember, but now..." He laid it on the floor beside his chair, voice breaking as he said, "...I just can't seem to find the right notes." 

Dupre had thought he'd cried himself dry. As tears once again slid down his face, he shook his head slowly and whispered, "I can't believe she's dead." 

"Nor I. What will we do without her?" 

"The Guardian..." Dupre murmured. His hands clenched. "I'm going to find that ugly red bastard and kill him." 

Iolo swallowed convulsively. "I'm coming." 

The door opened to admit Katrina and Mariah. Both took seats without a word and sat silently. 

"We're planning to wage war on the Guardian," Dupre said at last. 

Both hesitated before saying they'd help, just as Iolo had. It was, in part, fear. The rest… it had just been too long since they had planned to do anything this dangerous together without the leadership and friendship of one woman. 

Silence again. 

"What would she say?" Dupre wondered aloud, his glistening eyes regarding Elora's silk-shrouded body. 

After a short pause, Iolo whispered, "'Follow me.'" 

The others nodded slowly and said nothing. Their Avatar they would have followed anywhere - had followed everywhere, even into the depths of Dungeon Doom. She was their friend, companion and leader. 

And now she was gone. 

"Why didn't the Resurrection work?" Katrina asked Mariah in a subdued voice. 

The mage shook her head. "I know not how to explain it. A Resurrection spell reconnects the spirit to the body then restores a measure of life to it. We...couldn't find her spirit." 

"Why?" 

"It just...wasn't there. Richard searched, but...could not find her. He tried feeding life into her body anyway, hoping to lure her back. He tried everything." 

"So it's over," Dupre said softly. "She's dead and she's not coming back." 

"I'd always thought I'd feel...different should this ever happen," Iolo said. "I know not...it's almost as if she's still...alive." He looked at the sheet-covered body and shook his head. "She's dead and she's not coming back." 

"The ceremony is tonight," Mariah reminded them. "She'll be honoured as befits...as befits the Avatar." 

For a minute, silence again filled the room. The four companions looked at each other without speaking, each sharing the sorrow of the others. 

Suddenly, Iolo stood. Looking at the still form on the bed, he said, "Compassion; her heart was among the greatest I have known." 

"Justice;" Dupre said softly, standing. "She would not cease to do that which is right." 

Mariah rose to her feet. "Honesty; a true friend with true visions of hope." 

Iolo nodded. "Honour; unstained - never did she turn from the light." 

Dupre touched the hilt of his sword. "Valour; protector of Britannia, none could match her strength." 

"Sacrifice;" Katrina stood, gazed down at her hands. "She died that others might live. Humility; never a word did she speak in arrogant pride." 

Iolo closed his eyes. "Spirit; _her _spirit...to the Ether, now we give." 

Lord British had been right. It was time to say goodbye. 


	4. Undeath

****

Book Two of The Black Ankh

By Shadow of Light Dragon, aka Laura Campbell

__

Cold be our hearts,

Bright be our eyes,

Pale be our skins,

Breathless, our sighs.

Power, our hunger,

Hate be our drives,

Magic be lifeblood,

Death be our lives.

***

Voices emerge from the silence. Indistinguishable, incomprehensible. They float through the darkness, unheard amidst my own questions.

Where am I?

How long have I been here?

Who am I?

"The waiting period has passed," one of the voices states. Its tone is sibilant - reptilian. "You must return from death."

"Did I die?" The last word echoes as if through some impossibly large cavern. "die...die...die...die..."

"That is correct. But you still wear the aeth'raesh'al_. Your New Self needs you."_

"New Self? What? What am I?"

"This is the part that thou was. Thou art dead to existence, but cannot yet sleep separated from the part of thee that is."

"What should I do?"

"Return."

"How do I return?"

"You shall return when I send you an image of that which you would live and die for."

"Why_ should I return?"_

Silence. But the darkness is dispelled by the sudden appearance of a symbol that glows and writhes like living fire.

An Ankh.

I am the Avatar.

"Send me back."

The Ankh's light fills the entire plane, bringing with it...Britannia...

***

It was still dark, but my skin registered heat. There was a hissing, crackling noise all around. My hands were clasped about a leathery cylinder. I moved my fingers slightly and discovered that it was a sword hilt. But it felt different… it wasn't the Blacksword.

Then I realised it was dark because my eyes were shut. Feeling a bit embarrassed, I opened them to find no change. It was still dark. The night sky, empty of moons and stars. I was lying flat on my back, face turned towards the heavens, a beautiful yet utterly useless sword resting on my body from breasts to ankles.

What was going on? Where was everyone?

Then a hazy, yellow-orange shimmering stained the darkness around me, reaching up higher each passing second. From time to time, small, bright, golden lights, like stars, would leap up into the sky to a cracking sound, then vanish.

No, not stars. Sparks?

A new sound emerged. Someone was singing. A resonant male voice I instantly recognised as belonging to Iolo. The deep, rich timbre that had only been improved with time's passage soared into the night alone at first, but was soon joined by the sad, rippling music of a lute. Only the bard himself could be playing it, I thought, watching the bright flecks of gold flee into the darkness. Voice and instrument combined into a harmony so heart-breakingly pure that I wondered why tears weren't falling down my cheeks.

Finally, I decided that it might be a good idea to get up - there was too much work to do for me to be lying down listening to classical. I turned my head to the right.

Fire.

Fire?!

With a startled oath, I sat up and held the sword as if it would be an effective weapon against the flames surrounding me.

I was on a funeral pyre!

My nose was suddenly assailed by a strange smell, and I cursed again, knowing that my hair had caught. Wasting no time on sentimentality, I grabbed up all the waist-length strands, twisted them into a single fistful, then chopped them short with the barely sharp-enough edge of my sword.

The hem of the stupid white death-shroud caught next. I smothered it quickly and stood barefoot on the top of the burning pyre. Which direction to jump? There was no safe way to tell and I had no wish to make a heroic leap from a fiery death that would only end with a spectacularly broken leg. Or worse.

I took a deep breath that did little to calm my nerves, and clutched the sword with trembling fingers. This had better work...or my goose was cooked. "Vas An Flam!" I shouted, swinging the blade wildly.

I'd expected backlash effects for attempting a spell without reagents, but was completely unprepared for them. A sudden chest constriction forced me to my hands and knees while my head started to throb painfully. From narrowed eyes, I saw the fire vanish, leaving the last tatters of smoke hanging in the air above me.

Music ceased and was supplanted by a chorus of gasps from all around. I looked up slowly.

"Who hath dared disrupt this ceremony?"

Lord British's voice. It was soft, but carried around the entire area on impressive undercurrents of anger.

Turning towards the sound I somehow made out the standing figure of Britannia's king through the darkness; his silver serpentine amulet hoarding what little light there was.

I stood.

More gasps.

I made my careful way down the charred wood and warm ashes to the blessed safety of the ground. The grass was cold and wet; someone had probably soaked the area around the pyre to prevent any accidents. The silence was profound as I stood before Lord British - Iolo and Dupre at his sides.

"_Elora_?" the king suddenly said, incredulity and a wild hope lighting his bearded face.

"Yes, my Lord?" I answered, mindful of the fact that we seemed to be in public.

"Thou...art alive?"

"Yes, my Lord."

"And unhurt?"

"Considering thou didst almost cremate me." The full import of my words abruptly registered on me, and I pointed the ornamental sword at him accusingly. "Thou didst almost cremate me!"

Lord British shifted his black mourning robes and gave me a rather defensive look. "Thou wert dead for a week!"

Conversation started through the crowd around the pyre. I saw that we were at Serpent's Hold. Lord British, Iolo, Dupre, Katrina and Mariah were the only people here I really knew. My companions, like everyone else, were dressed in black.

My eyes slid over to the small knot of gargoyles and I saw Lord Draxinusom among them. He and the other gargoyles wore a purple ring around their left horns.

Lord British gestured slightly and the torch held by the guard beside him sprang to life. Evidently I'd extinguished more than the pyre. Other torch bearers moved to light their torches as this one sputtered into golden flames.

"Why didn't you Resurrect me?" I whispered plaintively. "_Why_?"

Katrina said, "The healer here - Lady Leigh - tried without success. By the time Lord British got here..."

"You could have recalled my spirit like I did for Spark!"

"We tried," Lord British assured me gravely. "Nothing happened." He lowered his gaze. "We tried _everything_."

I stuck the sword point down into the turf. "Then why didn't you take the bracer off?" I asked softly, my anger returning. The sight of the armband made me pause. The central gem had gone opaque black, the others translucent, and the bracer itself as clear as glass. It looked the same as it had the day I'd found it on Mors Gotha's body.

Then I remembered the black mist.

Lord British met my haunted eyes steadily, as did Iolo, Dupre and Mariah. Katrina, though...her gaze was as disturbed as my own. When I put a scarcely perceptible, questioning frown into my expression, she looked away.

She knew. But knew what? What had she seen?

And where was the Blacksword?

"We tried removing it," Lord British said softly, referring to the bracer. "We...we gave up hope."

There was such guilt in his voice, such pain...I couldn't think of what to say. For a minute, there was complete silence. Then Iolo put down his lute and stepped forward to stand directly in front of me.

"Thou art alive!" he managed, his voice thick. A second later, he'd thrown his arms around me in a crushing embrace. "Alive!"

"Rejoice, Britannia!" Lord British shouted in so great a voice that I almost jumped. "Thine Avatar lives!"

Mourning turned to celebration in the form of a tumultuous cheer. I understood the king's motives, of course. He didn't want his people to worry that something was amiss. But I knew something was wrong...looking down at the bracer's black jewel...I knew. No one had resurrected me. I shouldn't be alive.

Gently, I disengaged myself from Iolo. The old bard was actually _crying_!

He could get so emotional at times.

***

Now don't get me wrong. I love Iolo's sentimental side - it's one of the reasons he's such a superb bard. I have nothing against a scene where emotions are flying and eyes glisten with unshed tears of joy - I'll even admit that I got a lump in my throat when I saw him standing there all weepy-eyed. But I had other things to think of that were more important than friendly reunions...

***

After Dupre, Katrina and Mariah had given me fierce embraces of pure relief, Lord British noticed my shivering.

"Thy pardon, Elora," he exclaimed, showing a smile for the benefit of the people. "Thou dost need some warmer clothes and a bath."

I wiped a smudge of soot from my face to hide my expression. I hadn't been shivering from the cold.

The king casually turned to Mariah. "Wouldst thou?"

"Of course, your Majesty," she replied quickly.

As she led me through the cheering throng of black robed Britannians, I looked back at Lord British and Katrina, knowing that I'd been given over to Mariah's care deliberately. The shepherdess kept her eyes away from mine while the king continued to smile.

"Smile, Elora," Mariah murmured. "After all, everyone's happy thou art alive."

"Did we save the Flame?"

One of her brows raised a fraction. She'd obviously been expecting a different question. "No. As far as I can determine, it went out when thou didst sacrifice thyself." She shook her head wryly. "I have no idea how thou didst manage it, Elora. Thy spell completely annihilated the enemy army. Not one soldier was left standing, according to Katrina."

"It worked?" I asked, relief flooding in on me.

"Indeed it did. Thou didst save everyone in Serpent's Hold." An almost dreamy note entered the mage's voice. "I just wish I could have _seen _it. Feeling all that energy explode into one spell would have been something to witness." As we entered the Hold, she added, "I'm sorry about thine hair, though."

I raised a hand to touch the cropped remnants which hung just below my shoulders. "It probably doesn't look very good at the moment. Do you suppose you could, well, neaten it up a little for me, please?"

The mage stopped and took my hair in her hands. "I'm sure I could give it a try. I'm afraid it will only get shorter, though."

"At least it won't take as long to dry any more," I conceded. I paused a minute, wondering if I should ask about Arcadion or anything else that was pressing on my mind, but such thoughts fled when I noticed Mariah hadn't moved. Her hands were resting lightly on my shoulders near the base of my neck and were very still. "Mariah?"

She withdrew a little too quickly for comfort. "Sorry. Yes, I'm sure I can fix thine hair for thee. I'm pretty handy with a pair of scissors, actually. Shall we?"

I smiled.

***

Serpent's Hold, bastion of the Order of the Silver Serpent, Castle of the Isle of Deeds, and Keep of the Eternal Flame of Courage was in a festive mood the next day, despite the overhanging threat of war. I wandered the corridors of stone walls and carpeted floors, just watching the sun stream through the thin, rectangular windows set into the walls. The keep's inhabitants went about their daily routines - changed somewhat to account for possible attacks by the enemy - and a few hailed me as they passed.

Mariah had done me the favour of trimming my hair so that it actually looked neat. I _did _have to maintain appearances, being the Avatar and all. With leather trousers, a clean, white, sleeveless shirt, a longsword and soft leather boots that, being imbued with that strange quality all new shoes have, were probably wearing blisters into my feet, I travelled aimlessly down the passages of a keep I had recently died protecting.

I felt like an entirely different person.

I was also feeling very much alone. I never would have thought that I might miss Arcadion's somewhat caustic conversation.

"Return to me, Arcadion," I whispered again, half extending my hands as if to grasp a sword hilt.

For a split second - like every other time - I felt something solid appear between my fingers and a faint, violet light teased my eyes. Then, just as quickly, it was gone.

*"_Maybe I can serve as a substitute_."*

"_What are you talking about, Guardian_?" I demanded of the Voice silently. I wasn't _this _starved for company.

*"_You know, a substitute; something different that is just as good. If not better._"*

"_Ok, I give up. I fail to see your double meaning._"

*"_What makes you think there _is _one_?"*

"_With you, there always is._"

*"_You know,_"* he replied with mock wistfulness, _*_"_I think I'll miss all these quaint little conversations with you, Avatar. There aren't many people who have defied me to my face._"*

"And lived," I muttered aloud.

*"_Your arguments have been amusing, but it's time for me to move on._"*

"_You're leaving Britannia_?" I asked hopefully.

*"_Now, now, Avatar. You belong here no more than I do. Are _you _planning to leave_?"*

"_Do I have a choice_?"

I got the irrational feeling that he was laughing, but all he said was, *"_I don't think we'll speak to each other again, Avatar. I'd bid you farewell, but that's not particularly appropriate under the circumstances._"*

Then he was gone.

I stood like a statue in a bar of sunlight, not knowing what to think. An unaccountable sensation of loneliness welled up within me and I waited to hear the Guardian's taunt of "Poor Avatar!" but there was nothing. He was gone...and why didn't that make me feel in the least bit elated?

What the Hell was going on?

***

A servant answered the door.

"Is Lord British available?" I asked.

"I'll just go see, Avatar. And might I congratulate thee on an excellent recovery?"

I smiled wryly and the servant went back inside. Gone were the days when no one knew - or rather, believed - who I was. Anonymity _did _have its advantages.

When the servant reappeared, he gestured for me to enter. In the inner room, I found that Britannia's king was not alone. Iolo, Dupre, Mariah, Katrina and Draxinusom were also present.

I felt a little hurt that I hadn't been invited to their party.

Conversation had stopped, but they didn't try to hide their previous topic by starting another one about the current price of fish.

"Am I disturbing anything?" I asked.

"No," replied the king brusquely. "I was about to send someone looking for thee, as a matter of fact." He waved a hand at an empty chair.

I sat and accepted a goblet of wine the servant offered me. I had little taste for the stuff, nor was I thirsty, but I needed something to steady my nerves. After one bracing sip, I said, "I came to find out what's happening. Something has changed and I want to know what. Even the Guardian has stopped talking to me."

Lord British made a discreet motion to the servant, who bowed and took his leave, then dipped his hand into one trouser pocket. It emerged with my Ankh. "Before we begin, I believe this is thine."

I reached out my hand to take it, then paused halfway. The silence and almost palpable tension in the room rang warning bells in my head. A frown creased my brow as I realised every eye was on me, every breath held. I looked at the hand holding my Ankh.

It was trembling.

Withdrawing my own hand and relaxing back into my chair, I felt the tension mount.

Lord British shrugged and put the Ankh on the carved wooden table then clasped his hands tightly together.

"Well?" I asked finally. I hated long silences.

"What wouldst thou know?"

I smiled slightly and shook my head in exasperation. "Anything! What happened after I died would be an excellent place to start. How long has it been? Where's the Blacksword? _Anything_!"

They exchanged glances.

Katrina said, "The Blacksword was nowhere to be found after the fight. The area was thoroughly searched, so we have no idea where it is. Maybe it was destroyed?"

"That can't be right," I disagreed. "I called it to return and I _felt _it...then it pulled back. My bond with Arcadion still exists, and only some kind of magic can disrupt it."

Katrina frowned. "I can only say what I saw. Or _didn't _see, as the case may be."

Her slightly stiff tone made me pause. Had I said something wrong? "Well, what else did you see?"

Her eyes suddenly hardened. "I saw thee get killed."

What did it take to get these people to _talk_, I thought a little angrily. Capturing her eyes, I demanded, "What else?"

"I saw the Eternal Flame quenched!"

"What _else_?"

"I saw the healer, two Lords of Britannia and my friends try to revive thee without success!" she half-shouted.

"What else, Katrina?"

Her mouth snapped shut. I noticed Dupre had one hand on his sword hilt. There was so much animosity in the room that it was oppressive. Something was very much amiss and I got the feeling that I wouldn't like the answer as to what was wrong. But that didn't mean I didn't _want _to know!

"Thou wert about to send for me, my Lord?" I said to my king with stiff formality. "Here I am. What wouldst thou say to me that hath more importance than this?"

"That this ruse will not work," he replied coldly. "And that unless thou dost tell us where the Avatar is, thou wilt curse the day thou didst choose to serve the Guardian."

From there, what happened next passed so quickly that I could scarcely register it all.

Dupre leaped to his feet and drew his sword as Iolo pulled the blanket from his lap to reveal a loaded crossbow, which he levelled at my chest. Katrina stood, staff in hand, and Mariah's hands shimmered with the aura of a spell awaiting release.

The two kings remained seated.

"I don't know what you're talking about," I whispered. "I am the Avatar." I looked at my friends. "Why do you doubt me?"

Lord British said, "Don't move."

Dupre reached out his free hand and touched my neck. At first I got the frightening impression that he meant to strangle me, but all he did was leave his hand there for a second then withdraw. "It's true," he said.

"What's true?" I demanded as the others sidled and the kings frowned.

Dupre brought the flat of his blade up under my chin and forced my mouth shut. "Quiet."

"Sorry to doubt thy word, Mariah," Lord British said.

She nodded, but kept her wary gaze on me. "I understand, Richard. It was my word against the supposed Avatar's, after all."

"I can't say I'm happy to find that I _didn't _imagine what I'd seen," Katrina said.

This whole conversation was going _way _over my head.

"They didn't escape by ship, did they?" Lord British asked her.

"No. There were none reported nearby, and nowhere to embark without beaching the ship - or using smaller boats. Either way would have taken too long and we would have seen something when we gave chase."

"Magic, then." Mariah flicked her gaze meaningfully at my bracer. "If Elora still wore that, the enemy could have used her to teleport away."

"So what do we do?"

I opened my mouth and Dupre shut it.

"_Would you stop that_?" I thought irritably at him.

A flicker of uncertainty crossed his face.

"...are ways of making people talk," Draxinusom was saying. "To think that even in her case, something could be arranged."

"I've never liked using torture," Lord British began.

"To say that this is different, Richard. Pain won't work with her, but there are spells that will cause a similar effect." He raised a hairless brow at Mariah, who nodded.

"I can try this," she said, then flicked her spell at me.

I moved. My chair toppled backwards and I rolled away and to my feet. Something whistled past my ear.

"_Don't move_!" Iolo shouted. "That was a warning shot, liche. The next one will strike thine unbeating heart!"

_Liche_?

The spell struck without warning.

I couldn't _see_.

_Run_, was my first thought. What were they _doing_? I stood still and tried very hard to keep my head. There had to be an explanation, and I'd never get it if I panicked and Iolo shot me full of bolts.

"It's been trained well," Mariah said. "That spell would panic most undead."

"How would that have helped?" Lord British asked.

"The undead are very susceptible to suggestion when they're unnerved like that. I could almost guarantee that she'd answer any of thy questions in all honesty just for the promise of restoring her sight. This creature, though, still acts as if it can see. My spell blinded it."

"Is there any way to change what it looks like?" Iolo's voice asked. "This...is hard. I really thought she was alive when she came down from the pyre..." he lapsed into silence.

Steel touched my chin again and I flinched involuntarily. "It's a very good illusion," Dupre said. "I can't tell the difference."

"As far as I can tell, it's no illusion," Mariah cut in. "A clone?"

"_Richard_," I thought to Lord British. "_Can you please tell me what's going on_?"

There was a brief silence.

"She's talking to thee, isn't she?" Dupre's voice said.

"That she is."

"A very good illusion," Dupre said darkly. "Now listen, imposter. Thou art going to tell us where the real Avatar is, and thou wilt tell us _now_."

"I've had about enough of this," I muttered. A mere concentrated thought returned my sight. I heard Mariah gasp as her spell was broken, but focussed my eyes on Dupre. "An Por!" I said, and, as every muscle in his body was paralysed, sidestepped his unmoving sword to blast Iolo's bolt into splinters before he could fire it.

Katrina's staff broke as she lashed it across the base of my skull. As surprised as she that the blow hadn't even hurt me, we stared at each other incredulously for a full five seconds before I said, "You tried to kill me!" then paralysed her.

Barely countering three spells thrown at me by the two lords and Mariah, I pointed at Lord British and shouted, "_Stop_!"

"Art thou threatening me?"

"Weren't you threatening _me_?"

"We have cause, liche."

"_Liche_? What are you saying? That I'm..." I trailed off, staring at him in sick realisation. With what seemed a great effort, I lifted my hand to the place Dupre had touched on my neck and felt for a pulse.

Nothing.

Then I discovered an equally disturbing fact...I wasn't breathing. I was still holding my breath from several minutes ago.

"...undead?" I whispered.

Draxinusom negated my spells, releasing Dupre and Katrina. Both regarded me with distrust.

"I'm the Avatar," I said. "I'm Elora! Tell me how I can prove it."

Lord British pointed at the Ankh on the table. "Pick it up."

Then I understood. The 'evil undead' would most probably have been reduced to a puddle of goo for so much as touching my Ankh. It was enchanted, I knew that much. The question was, would it recognise me in my current state? If not...what _would _it do to an undead?

"Pick it up."

I stepped close to the table, bent, lifted the Ankh by its chain, then fastened it around my neck. There was a flash of heat when the golden amulet touched my skin, but nothing else. I was still alive...sort of. "Satisfied?" I asked softly.

"Elora," he whispered.

Dupre's hands were shaking so badly that he missed his first two attempts to sheathe his blade. Iolo gave the crossbow bolt buried in the door a white-faced look then leaned back in his chair, closed his eyes and murmured, "Virtues preserve us..."

"I can understand why you doubted," I said. "I can barely believe it myself, but please. You must know how this has happened. Tell me."

Katrina touched the broken end of her crook then said, "I'll tell thee what I can."

***

"Thy Mass Death spell worked. I was up on the battlements when thou didst cast it, so when I looked down on the field I could see everything. Not one of the Guardian's soldiers had survived, but it seemed thou hadst. Thou wert standing in the same place thou hadst cast thy spell and a black mist was surrounding thee.

"Then there was something like an earthquake. I learned from others that at this time the Flame of Courage went out. No one seems to know how. After the quake I saw daemons rise from the ranks of the slain soldiers and they all closed on thee. Thou didst leap on one and kill it with the Blacksword, but there seemed too many for thee to fight alone - particularly after casting a spell of the magnitude thou didst use to flatten the Guardian's army!

"I ran down to the gates to rally some knights and come to thine aid, but by the time we passed without the walls of the Hold...thou wert gone and the daemons with thee. We approached the black mist and even it vanished. There we found thy body and I thought all I had seen to be a dream. I was the only one who had seen thee, after all. All on the battlements had been forbidden to stand and risk exposing themselves to thy spell until I allowed them. Dupre...well, he had been watching thee when thou didst cast Mass Death. That resulted in a temporary blindness.

"Yet if what I had seen had not happened, where was the Blacksword? No one was alive to take it, and would it even be possible with the bond to thee?

"Seven days passed during which we tried everything we could think of to revive thee. Nothing worked and we eventually gave up. There is still a war in Britannia and we would continue to fight it, even without thy leadership.

"On the eve of thy funeral...thou didst awaken! No act of our own caused this, so we were doubly surprised. But upon descending from the pyre, the mages among us - Mariah, Richard and Draxinusom - sensed something strange in thee. Mariah accompanied thee to the baths hoping to verify - or rather, prove false - what our lords suddenly suspected was occurring.

"That thou wert not Elora.

"Mariah was able to check thy pulse when she was attending thine hair. That showed thou wert not even _alive_. Yet thou wert under no illusion, so what was going on? Thou didst certainly _look _like Elora.

"We gathered here today to discuss what could be done. Where was the _real _Avatar? Who was this undead imposter? If the Ankh doth not harm thee, thou must be Elora...so what hath happened that thou art a liche? And if thou art Elora, why won't Arcadion return to thee when summoned? Moreover, where _is _Arcadion?

"And that's the story, Elora. Thank the Virtues that we didn't try doing anything permanent to thee."

***

There was a brief silence.

"I'm a liche?" I said.

Lord British nodded slowly.

"I..." I'd cast those spells without reagents. "I'm undead. So what can I do about it?"

"Canst thou remove the bracer?"

I tried. "No."

"And thou canst not summon Arcadion?"

"No, but I can still feel the bond so it doesn't explain why he doesn't come."

Iolo opened his eyes. "Unless there _is _another Elora out there. Mayhap Katrina's eyes didn't play her false. 'Twould explain where the Blacksword _and_ those daemons went."

I sat down before I could fall over. "I've never seen anything like this."

"To know only one thing," Draxinusom said. "To know that the Blacksword can teleport people to the Isle of Fire. To suspect that if the Blacksword is not here, then the enemy must have it...and will they not use it to go to the Isle?"

Lord British frowned. "Thou art right, my friend. We've lost a primary defence if the enemy are not obliged to sail down the channel into the Isle's bay. They can teleport themselves right onto our doorstep."

"Over it, rather," I corrected softly. "The Blacksword teleports to where it was created - the forge within the fort."

"Then we should go back," Dupre said. "Immediately."

"None of the gargoyles have had opportunity to rest yet," Richard warned.

Draxinusom shook his head and regarded his fellow monarch with glowing eyes. "To say that we will persist and endure. To say we will succeed."

Lord British sighed wearily. "I do not ask this of thee. There is much risk."

The gargoyle smiled. "To say there is more at risk if we don't return. To know the dangers of using the venom, but to assure you that every precaution will be taken."

"How many gargoyles are here?" I asked. "If there are enough, you may not need the venom."

"To say there are only seven winged gargoyles here, including myself."

"And including Sir Horffe," Dupre put in. "He came back with us from the Isle of Fire."

"What was he doing there in the first place?" I asked, perplexed.

"He carried word of thy death to me," answered Lord British, "then returned to the Hold with us. We had more than one gargoyle to a human and it took us almost three days to get here."

"Seven gargoyles and six humans," I said, looking around at the circle we were sitting in. A flight from here to the Isle of Fire would not be fun. We would be above the ocean a good percentage of the time, with few hospitable places to stop and rest. "And no time to waste."

No one answered. It was time to leave.

***

The next five days were unpleasant for all twelve of us: Draxinusom, Lord British, Inmanilem, Iolo, Terhurflam, Dupre, Ruaki, Mariah, Ortlem, Katrina, Forvol and myself. I was expecting we'd arrive at the Isle of Fire in four days at the most, but that was the day the silver serpent venom ran out. A storm blew up from the west on the second night but I was able to hold it back with my magic.

Horffe had been left behind. He hadn't seemed happy about it, but had submitted to Draxinusom's request that he remain. The gargoyle held a position of authority at Serpent's Hold that required his presence, especially during a time of war.

Food was a problem. We'd taken little from the Hold for fear of overweighting the gargoyles. Flatbread, dried fruit, jerky and water were cheerless fare and completely inadequate for the needs of the gargoyles - they were under a lot of strain carrying us and needed nutrition. Because of all the healing magic being used at Serpent's Hold there were no reagents to spare, so casting Create Food spells was not an option - not even to me. I attempted the spell a few times, but failed, even though the other spells I'd cast since coming back to 'life' had worked without reagents. Lord British suggested that maybe the undead couldn't use the syllable 'Mani', which meant 'Life'. It seemed he was right - any other spell I tried succeeded.

Food ran out on the third day, and, on the fourth, the strength-enhancing silver serpent venom, which was the main cause of our delayed arrival. We were forced to land, taking refuge on a tiny island – barely more than a large rock with a deep cave amidst the whitecaps – while our friends recovered. This second shortage was both good and bad. The gargoyles wouldn't keel over and die from an overdose, but the extended use of the drug had left its mark on our winged companions. For most of the day the gargoyles had gone into a period of withdrawal, alternating between sitting listlessly and muttering in irate tones their craving for more venom.

By then, we were on the edge of the smattering of volcano-made isles on the outer perimeter of the Isle of Fire.

On the fifth afternoon we dropped in to the fort that was the chief stronghold of Britannia's defence.

***

"Ouch!" I exclaimed, rubbing my hip.

"To be sorry," Forvol said in a weak voice. He landed wearily beside me and I scrambled to my feet, helping him regain his balance.

"I'm all right - the fall wasn't very high." My exclamation had probably been an automatic reaction, I admitted a bit shamefully. Just like breathing, which did nothing more than empty and fill my lungs. I could still breathe, but it was no longer necessary. The fall hadn't made me feel sore at all, in fact, and I'd held up best over the journey. I didn't feel particularly healthy, but I wasn't suffering from dehydration, I wasn't at all hungry or tired, and I wasn't sick. My human companions were all the worse for wear and the gargoyles looked near to collapsing from exhaustion.

"To call to you for aid!" I shouted in gargish. The workers above us, who had been assembling a cannon on the rampart, hurried down.

"Thou must rest," Lord British was telling Draxinusom.

The gargoyle's usually bright eyes were dim as he smiled tiredly. "To not argue with you this time, friend." After his first unsteady step, Lord British took one of his red-skinned arms and flung it about his own shoulders.

"Thou hast carried my weight many times recently," the human king said. "Allow me to return the favour."

"To thank you," Forvol said as I supported him.

"To say it's no problem. To ask how you feel?"

He groaned. "To think a few days of sleep would not go amiss."

When we reached the fort's entrance the gargoyles were assisted to their chambers in the Test of Courage by others willing to lend a hand. This left the rest of us at the forge just inside. I found myself instantly looking around the forge, almost as if I anticipated enemy soldiers to be hiding around every corner.

"Everything looks normal," Katrina said. She rubbed her nose and sneezed.

"By which thou meanest an army hath not landed," Dupre replied. "Milord," he said to Lord British, "I think I should find Sentri and ask _his _opinion on what hath been going on in our absence."

Katrina scowled, but didn't bother making a snippy retort. Everyone was tired and Dupre probably hadn't intended any insult.

"And I'd best see if the mages have aught to say," Mariah put in.

Lord British nodded and both set off - Mariah for the Statue Room and Dupre for the battlements. As an afterthought he asked Katrina to check on the Isle of Ambrosia, and the shepherdess left for the teleport pads at once.

I tried a simpler method. "Excuse me, sir," I said, snagging a passing warrior by the arm. "Knowest thou where I might find Sir Sentri?"

He looked at me as if I were insane - the wrinkled clothes I wore wouldn't have helped matters. "Sir Sentri is in conference with the Avatar, Huntmaster Tseramed and acting Archmage Praetymdelem! Everyone knows that!"

I blinked, then carefully replied, "The _Avatar_?"

"Aye," he answered moodily. "She shows up a few days ago and orders a meeting as if she were Lord British." He either didn't notice or recognise Lord British himself moving closer to better hear the conversation, Iolo at his side. "They haven't moved from those caverns in four days!" He frowned. "Or is that five? In any case, it was not long after Lords British and Draxinusom flew off bound for _somewhere _with Lord Iolo, Lady Mariah and some gargoyles who for the life of me I can't remember the names of. Thou knowest how it is with them."

"Can we go back a bit? What caverns?"

"Oh...I don't know. Somewhere on Ambrosia, I believe."

"The Avatar did this?" I asked intently.

"Would anyone lie about something like that?" he demanded angrily.

"Forgive me."

"Yes, of course, Lady. And I beg thy forgiveness also. Most of us 'commoners' have been jumpy of late, what with the mages being thick as fleas on a dog around both our islands. Some 'surge of power' thing." He shrugged.

I extended my hand. "Thank thee, Sir. Thou hast been a great help.'

He shook my hand, some of the wariness leaving his eyes. "Pleased to be of assistance, Lady." As he let go he added, "Perhaps thou shouldst warm thy hands by the forge."

I nodded to him as he left. "What of Julia?" I asked Lord British, chafing my hands together. They didn't _feel_ cold. "Isn't she here?"

"Two days after thou didst vanish, she left with our ships for Buccaneers' Den to get supplies. If all went well, she should be back any day."

Dupre chose that moment to descend from the battlements. "No sign of Sentri above, Milord," he reported to his king. "I'll try his 'office'."

"No need. Elora hath discovered where he is." Lord British looked concerned. "We should make haste in finding him and the others, Avatar. I have an extremely bad feeling about this double people are speaking of."

I told Dupre what I'd heard and he also frowned.

"I agree with our lord on this," he said. "We must hurry."

"Then let's go."

***

The instant we arrived on the lush green meadows of Ambrosia I felt a sense of unease. A strong sensation - as if someone had just released a very powerful spell - batted at my mind from the south-west. For a second, I got the impression that it was coming from the Isle of Fire.

"Did you feel that?" I asked the others quickly.

Lord British winced. "Any mage within several leagues would have, I think. Dost thou have to make so much noise?"

"That was _me_? But I thought it was coming from somewhere out there!"

The king looked at me closely. "I only felt a surge coming from thee, Elora. Just as we arrived here. Didst thou not feel _that_?"

I shook my head, frowning. "I wonder-" I stopped as I was interrupted by a different feeling. Something was tickling my mind...someone was calling for help. No, not calling...demanding. I turned my eyes to the mountainous peaks lining the north coast of the island and frowned thoughtfully. That's where the caves lay. 

Then Katrina hurried over from where she'd been speaking to two other shepherds. "Thou wilt not believe this- "

"If it's about the Avatar being in two places at the same time," said Dupre, "thou'rt right. I don't."

The shepherdess nodded and pointed to the north. "In the caves, with Sentri, Tseramed and a gargoyle called Praetymdelem." She looked at us then hefted a stout staff she'd picked up somewhere. "I'm coming."

The five of us reached the caves a few minutes later. I conjured a light and drew my longsword, then led the way in. The sensation I'd felt upon arriving at the Isle became more insistent, tugging me from the west. I gestured to my friends and we headed in that direction.

"Where do we go first?" Iolo murmured. The old bard strode beside me with a loaded crossbow, eyes peering down every corridor we passed.

"The hydra's cave," I replied softly, squinting further down the passage we were travelling. "If they're not there we'll look elsewhere of course, but I have the strangest feeling..."

"How so?"

"Like someone or something is calling me from this direction-"

A strange, rasping voice interrupted. "There thou art!"

My friends and I came on guard in an instant, but lowered out weapons when we saw that the voice was coming from behind a magically locked door. Through the heavily barred window I could see a liche's face. The pallid features and blood-red, glowing eyes were fixed on me.

"I've been calling thee for help since I sensed thine arrival," the undead rasped. "What took thee so long?" It paused and looked the others over. "Stop to pick up a bite for us to eat, didst thou?"

"Thy strange feeling?" Iolo asked me.

"Looks like it."

The liche frowned, its brittle skin crinkling like fine white leather. "An undead walking with the living? Now I've seen it all."

"Forget the liche," I said, disappointed that the strange sensation had come from it and not from my missing friends. "Let's keep going."

"'_Forget the liche_'?" it echoed angrily. "_Thou _art a liche, in case thou hast forgotten! Come back!" it howled as we passed its prison. "We _will _meet again! Doors aren't strong enough to prevent me from answering the Call! _Come back, liche_!"

I didn't like hearing the reminder of what I was. I wasn't comfortable with the notion of undeath and I could tell my companions weren't either. A few sidelong glances were cast in my direction for a while, as if they suddenly expected me to turn around and go on a blood-lust induced rampage.

"Can you tell I'm a liche just by looking at me?" I asked Iolo with some concern.

He smiled encouragingly. "No, Elora."

"Are you sure?" I examined one of my hands for a second. "I'm not developing glowing eyes or anything?"

"Thou lookest the same as always, Elora - except for the hair, of course." He paused to glance down a branching passage before adding, "But I admit I do sense something strange when I am near thee."

I sighed. "Yes. That would be the same feeling that Richard, Draxinusom and Mariah got when I apparently returned to life. You're feeling it as well, but to a lesser degree because your magical power isn't as great."

"Thou canst not feel it?" he asked curiously.

"I'm sort of in a unique position, Iolo. I feel _different_, but, at this point in time, not so different that I'd immediately think, 'Gee, I'm undead.'" I remembered what the liche behind us had looked like. "I hope I can get my life back before I start feeling and looking differently."

We reached the hydra's cave. Thin rays of light shot through the gaps and holes in the walls of the stone 'house' within. There was an exit from the mountains in there that led to the fallen meteor of caddelite. I stopped everyone at the entrance, wove a spell of Protection, then cautiously peered in.

"It's empty."

No one was inside. We filed in and looked around for a few minutes, but all we found was a single rolled up sheaf of parchment that was addressed to Lord British. I picked it up and handed it to him.

He opened it, read it, frowned and handed it back.

It read:

'Your Majesty,

I rejoice to tell thee that the Avatar, Elora, doth live! She came here shortly after thy departure and called a meeting with Tseramed, Praetymdelem and myself to review all stores and inventory. We are going with her now to find Shamino, whom she believes is somewhere within the Deep Forest. After that we know not, for she doth seem loath to settle on another plan before the first is completed.

Elora doth send her regards and regrets that she could not speak with thee herself. Moreover, she asks that thou be careful, for she hath sensed powerful magic at work these past few days.

The Virtues be with thee, my liege.

Sir Sentri.'

I sheathed my sword. "I don't like this. If this clone serves the Guardian, she may now know everything there is to know of our defences." I paused. Seeing the uneasy faces of my companions, I asked, "Are you thinking that _I'm_ the clone, still?"

"We've seen no evidence that the other is...well...is not the Avatar," Katrina said.

"You don't trust me." I turned away from the guilt in their faces. It hurt. It hurt more than I was willing to show. Doubted by my best and dearest friends. Doubted by myself. "I can leave," I offered. "I'm more than willing to find Shamino before whatever's out there does first."

No one answered me and I was out the door before anyone else _could_. It was pitch black, but I found I could see quite easily. There was something peculiarly comforting about the darkness of the caves. It was almost like a sense of security...I could hide in the shadows and never be found or troubled...never hurt anyone by accident.

"That's what liches do, isn't it?" I whispered to myself. "There's no such thing as a peaceful liche. Is that by choice or circumstance?" I added, even more softly. There might be a way to know, I decided, and walked back up the way we'd come, half-hoping and half-fearing my friends would follow. It wasn't long before I found myself back at the liche's prison.

"I didn't think it would last," the hissing voice beyond the door stated. There was almost a kind of soft regret in its tone. "The undead have no place with the living." Its face appeared at the grille. "Thy friends have abandoned thee?" It gave a short, crackling laugh. "As it was with me. Long gone, mine are, dead centuries past. Didn't want to consort with the undead, they said."

"My friends aren't like that."

"Then where are they?" The liche made a show of looking around, then stopped and regarded me again. "Thou shalt discover, in time, that thou hast no need of the living. They will perish before thou hast turned around twice. Dost thou not know? The undead are immortal! We can be slain at great cost, but left alone we will endure forever." It made a dismissive gesture with one pale, long-nailed hand. "Friends are of no moment at this time, anyway. Canst thou not feel it in the ground? The air? Ether itself? The Call hath been sent, kinswoman! We are being summoned!"

"I am no kin of yours."

The liche suddenly frowned. "That mode of speech...where have I heard it before?" The glowing eyes narrowed and its voice fell to a husky whisper. "I cannot tell. The aura of the undead is not false. What dost thou wear about thy neck? Who wert thou in life?"

"I was...I _am _the Avatar."

A moment of incredulous silence was shattered by insane laughter. 'Thou?" the creature cackled. "The Avatar? A liche? This is not possible!"

I shrugged and made as if to walk by.

"_Wait_!" the liche shrieked, its laughter cutting off. "Thou must release me! We are kin, thou and I! Kin in death as we were not in life. Our blood runs cold and our hearts beat not; breath doth not stir our bodies, but ether is our life. Our will. Our power."

"What would you do if I released you?" I asked emotionlessly.

The blood-red eyes brightened. "The Call! I will answer the Call! Canst thou not hear it? The undead gather! We must hasten!"

"I'm sort of new to this whole undead thing. Can you explain what you're talking about?"

The liche beckoned me closer, its movements almost frenzied. I took a couple of steps, but no more, and folded my arms. "It's the prophecy!" it rasped. "The prophecy! The living think it relates to their Avatar, but it is not so! 'One will arise with the strength of an army...' that is to be us! An army of undead! The prophecy is at hand!" it screeched. "We _must go_!"

I felt cold all over. "If the prophecy doesn't relate to the Avatar...then who?"

"Of course it relates to an Avatar, but to _our _Avatar! Where doth it say that an Avatar must be 'good'? An Avatar is merely blessed by a higher power and a possessor of power! Our Avatar is blessed by the Guardian, kinswoman. We cannot lose!"

"Where is the Call coming from?"

The liche hissed angrily, obviously upset that I wasn't just going to open the door for it. I could feel the magic-inhibiting field in its cell from where I was standing, which explained why it couldn't simply free itself. "We must go! Canst thou not sense the location thyself? How long hast thou been undead?"

"Not long. Not even a week, I think."

The liche looked disgusted. "Trust me to get stuck with a beginner, and a living-lover at that." It snorted - a rather revolting sound considering most of its nose seemed to have decomposed. "Why become an undead if thou dost intend to waste it with _them_?" Then it shrugged. "No matter. Thou shalt feel the Call soon enough and thou shalt answer it, as will we all. Stonegate, kinswoman." Bloodless claws gripped the grille tightly. "The keep of the Shadowlords!"

The keep of the Vortex Cube, the keep of the Magebane sword...I sighed with boredom. "The keep is a ruin, liche. What's so special- "

"Elora?"

The liche hissed again and drew back into the deeper shadows of its prison.

"I'm here," I called, not turning. I'd recognise Iolo's voice anywhere.

The bard walked up to my side, a tiny Glimmer of light hovering at his shoulder. "I knew thou wouldst not leave without us."

I looked at him then. His face was serious, lined with concern, but free of doubt. "I was beginning to wonder if anyone would follow."

"I have always followed thee, Elora, and I always will, no matter where thou mayest go. Thou art the Avatar and thou art my friend. Nothing can change that." He smiled. "Now, wouldst thou mind coming back? We don't have torches or reagents, if thou dost remember. Blundering around in this place with only a few Glimmer spells would be unwise."

I rolled my eyes. "I've been demoted from Avatar to nightlight?"

Iolo's grin widened. "Thou hast ever been a light to those lost in darkness, Avatar." He gestured at the imprisoned liche. "Didst thou talk to it?"

"A little. It claims that there's some kind of undead army massing at the ruins of Stonegate."

"Dost thou believe it?"

"That's not all it said. I'll explain it when the others are here."

The liche was silent as we left and silent when we returned. Its burning eyes peered out from the grill in its prison door, glaring at the living with a malevolence that seemed to grow as I repeated our conversation.

"I'm wondering how the Guardian's army from Killorn Keep relates to all this," Dupre mused.

"Some of _them_ are undead," Katrina said suddenly. "Daemons."

"But still," Lord British said, "their army is big enough. They hold at least three-quarters of Britannia. Why an army of undead?"

I shook my head. "I don't know."

***

It was well into night when we returned to the Isle of Fire. The twin moons were rising higher and the brilliant stars cast their silver-white glow over the dimpled water of the bay. The air was cold, and the guards on duty were trailed by small clouds of fog generated by their breath wherever they went. I leaned against the battlements, halfheartedly flipping my sword over and over so that the blade reflected the moonlight. I wasn't tired and the undead apparently couldn't sleep.

What is there to do in the middle of the night? My computer was safe at home so I wasn't able to go online for a friendly chat. Then again, even if my computer _had _been here, I'd have been hard pressed to find an intergalactic internet connection.

With a snort, I sheathed my sword and took a reassuring glance around the battlements. Role-playing was nothing compared to this.

But at least I'd be alive.

"What are you thinking, Elora?" I muttered. "All the times you were on Earth you'd fantasise about Britannia. But when you're on Britannia you fantasise about Earth? Or is that just when the trouble starts?"

It had been fifteen, almost sixteen months now, since I'd left Earth. I thought I'd gotten over missing it.

"Return, Arcadion," I whispered commandingly.

A violet glow...the feel of a hilt...nothing.

"Damn."

"Avatar?" a nearby guard said, halting in his tracks and resting his halberd against one shoulder.

I blinked at him. "Yes?"

"Wert thou speaking to me, Milady?"

"Uh, no. Sorry, I was just thinking aloud."

The guard saluted and continued his patrol.

A few minutes later, I went downstairs. A few humans and a wingless gargoyle still worked the forge. Each of them were glistening with perspiration as they continued their various tasks: smelting ore mined on Ambrosia, hammering sword blanks into blades, carefully smoothing the exterior of a greathelm, twisting hundreds of steel rings that would be joined to make a single shirt of chain mail...

The cherry glow of the forge beckoned.

"Art thou the Avatar?" one of the smiths, a clean-shaven, heavily muscled man with black hair, asked suddenly.

I nodded.

"I thought so. Couldn't tell because of the hair. Here- " he handed me a pair of pliers that in turn held a sword blank. "If I don't recognise that look in thine eyes then I know not my trade."

Taking the tools, I flashed him a smile. "My thanks."

For the rest of the night, I became a swordsmith. I'm sure the others were a little surprised that neither the heat nor the activity made me break a sweat. Sparks flew all night, the ring of hammer on steel filled my ears and soot blackened every inch of exposed skin. I never felt tired and never felt sore. At one point, I even banged a finger with the hammer and didn't realise it until asked if I was ok. No pain. About an hour before dawn, my forging friends said "good morning," and went in search of their beds. Another group would be along to continue their work soon. I waved, then plunged a red-hot shortsword into the water trough which sent up great clouds of hissing steam. When it had cleared, I looked pensively at the reflection in the water.

Why was my image upside down?

The lips moved.

"Hello, Elora," my voice said.

My head snapped up.

It was like looking into a mirror. Every feature was identical to my own, save the fact that _her _hair was as long as mine had been before the funeral pyre. Recovering, I quickly evaluated the rest of her. She was wearing a mail shirt, green cloak, leather trousers and boots, while the scabbard belted to her back held the Blacksword.

"How did you manage to touch that Ankh without incinerating yourself?" she asked in a conversational voice. "You weren't wearing it when you came back from the dead, were you?"

"You're..."

"You." She smiled, but it was a cold smile. "A better version of you. I'm not forced to cling to the Virtues like you do." She raked back a drifting strand of waist-length hair. "And let me tell you, it's not because of any- " her face twisted, " -feelings that you're still 'alive'. It's because of the Guardian. I didn't have any problem with the idea of taking your _aeth'raesh'al_ and ending your existence back at the Hold. That was a masterfully cast Mass Death spell, by the way. I don't think I could have done much better myself."

"_Aeth'raesh'al_? You mean the bracer?" She wore an exact replica on her left arm. Like she was a mirror image...

She shrugged. "It's a technical term. I'm not going to explain it all to you, though. It's to my advantage keeping you in the dark."

Very slowly, I pushed myself away from the trough. "Where are my friends?"

She absently rubbed at a dark spot on her ringmail shirt with the edge of her green cloak. "Sentri and Tseramed? Or did you consider the gargoyle a friend, too?" She met my eyes. "Poor Praetymdelem had the gargish equivalent of a heart-attack last night. It wasn't that difficult to engineer with someone whose name means 'Ancient One'." She laughed softly. The sound was all the more chilling because it was my voice. "Sentri and Tseramed never suspected - they're so blind. Because I'm the Avatar, they accept anything reasonable I say at face value."

"You're not the Avatar."

"Oh, and you are? A liche? I'm alive, as my reflection - and your lack of one - can attest." Her eyes narrowed. "What have you done to my hair?"

"Where are my friends?" I repeated softly, allowing a hint of menace into my tone.

"Why should I tell you?" she retorted, still smiling. "They are not your concern, at the moment. _I _am." Her voice became deadly serious as she pointed toward the gates. "When my army gets here, I will give you a choice. I'm telling you what it is now so that you get plenty of time to think of an answer." Slowly, she pulled the Blacksword from her shoulder scabbard. "Unless you want to make your decision now."

"And what might this choice be?" I asked, one hand loosening my longsword in its sheath.

"Surrender or die."

My lip curled. "I've already died."

My double gave me a sidelong glance. "You'll be deciding on a world scale this time, Elora. You'll be speaking for Britannia and Britannia's people." She ran a finger along her sword's edge, her green eyes becoming avid at the sight of blood. "And when you refuse to surrender, how sweet will it be to see your face as I execute my hostages one by one." Her voice lowered, but it burned with a dreadful eagerness. "People you have sworn to protect."

My hand clenched around the hilt.

"You once told the Guardian that you were Britannia," she went on, smiling again. "Well, now you are. And when you're the last person standing under this world's sun you'll know it...and curse yourself."

I ripped my weapon free, not knowing what had come over me, and lunged across the water trough. My double reacted instantly and turned the attack aside with the Blacksword. The clash of steel seemed immensely loud in the empty hall. I plunged my left hand into the water and pulled out the almost-finished shortsword, then scissored it and my other blade up to catch the descending Arcadion like a pair of pincers.

"Arcadion, return!" I commanded.

The ether gem pulsed then the whole sword glowed for a fraction of a second. "That could get annoying, Master," the daemon stated laconically.

"Indeed," his wielder said, pulling back. "I'm not here to fight, Elora. Not yet."

Hearing a noise, I flicked my gaze toward the corridor that led to the Statue Room. Mariah stood there with two guards.

"You don't want an audience," I muttered.

"On the contrary," she replied just as softly. "I want a _big _audience. The armies of the Guardian on one side and of Britannia on the other. Then everyone will witness the answer to the greatest question ever asked."

"Which is stronger?" I whispered. "The Light or the Dark?"

Her back was to Mariah, so she was free to give me a vicious smile. "See? We're not so different after all. Great minds think alike." The smile faded, her expression turned serious and her tone softened even more, becoming almost caressing. "We are the same, you and I."

"We're no more alike than life and death."

"Death is a part of life, Elora. Just as I am a part of you." A half-smile teased her lips, her eyes glittering. "I will _become _death. The destroyer of worlds..."

"What goes on here?" Mariah asked, approaching the side of the trough.

The guards, uncertainty on their faces, readied their weapons.

"Mariah," I said, remembering the name the Guardian had spoken to me upon the battlements of Castle Britannia, "meet Mellorin."

Mellorin's visage was perfectly calm. With a casual air, she sheathed Arcadion and said, "Did everyone make it safely back here?"

Mariah glanced at my still-drawn swords then came to her own conclusion. Fixing me with a less-than-friendly eye, she said, "Yes, Elora. We all made it. What happened at Serpent's Hold? Katrina said-"

"That I'd been captured?" guessed my double smoothly. "They did catch me for a while. I'll tell you about it later - Sentri and Tseramed are waiting."

She frowned. "What about Praetymdelem?"

A look of regret passed over Mellorin's face. "He...passed away last night. He was very old..."

_Full points for acting_, I thought acidly.

Mariah sighed. "I know. So why hast thou come here alone? To warn us about _her_?" she asked, jerking her head in my direction. "Where are the others?"

Mellorin looked at me pointedly. "I can't say. But I can take you to them if you want to come. We need help finding Shamino's trail. Tseramed tried, but..." she laughed wryly. "Shamino seems to have literally vanished among the trees." She stopped talking and something silent passed between the two.

Mariah glanced at me, then back to Mellorin. "I'll come. I have some spells that might be of use. Should I get the others?"

"Mariah, wait!" I interrupted.

The mage frowned with irritation. "Excuse me a minute." She crooked a finger at the guards then went off with them to a convenient corner nearby.

"I was good, wasn't I?" Mellorin murmured with a faint smile of triumph.

"What are you going to do with her?"

"You'll find out."

Mariah was gesturing in my direction. The two guards, wearing the expressionless masks of those who are about to perform their duties whether they like them or not, nodded and advanced on me with drawn swords.

Now what? Trying to stop them would only convince Mariah beyond doubt that I was as evil as she supposedly thought. A liche, capable of nothing _but _evil. I looked at Mellorin. She let absolutely nothing of her true feelings or intentions show. One hand gripped Arcadion's hilt and in her eyes was a perfectly done bleak warning that I'd better not harm the approaching guards. I had no doubt that nothing would give her more pleasure than playing her part as Britannia's Avatar by leaping to the guards' defence.

Keeping my movements slow and deliberate, I laid both blades across the top of the trough then extended my arms, crossed at the wrists, toward the guards.

One circled around behind me and put her sword to my back. The other remained facing me at easy striking range.

"Are we ready?" Mellorin asked calmly.

"Yes. The guards will take care of everything." Mariah paused. "Thou dost not want me to wake Iolo and Dupre?"

Mellorin hesitated, then answered in a soft voice, "I fear there's not enough time. Shamino's life is in danger and we dare not delay." She nodded to the guards. "The Virtues be with ye." Then she looked at Mariah and touched one of the facets of the central jewel of her bracer.

"_Be careful_," I telepathed to the mage as both she and my double vanished. There was a surge of ether as I felt them teleport off somewhere to the east. Verity Isle?

Those thoughts abruptly fled and an icy feeling came over me when I remembered the guards. As I pondered what course of action to take, the sword at my back was suddenly gone. The guard I was facing lowered his own sword and sheathed it. I lowered my arms and raised a quizzical brow.

"Avatar?" he asked rather hesitantly. "Lady Mariah asked us to give thee a message."

"How dost thou know that I'm the real Avatar?" I asked softly.

"We...er...don't, Milady," he stammered. "But hadst thou attacked us we would have known otherwise."

I let out an almost explosive breath of relief and looked up, saying a silent prayer of thanks.

The guard behind me came around and said, "Lady Mariah bade us tell thee this shouldst thou not resist us." She paused, mentally going over the words. "'After seeing two Avatars preparing to fight one another, it hath become obvious that only one can be real. Unless I am severely mistaken, I'm prepared to believe it to be thee. Thou hast had many opportunities to do great harm over the last week, but have taken none.'" She looked at her companion.

"'Even to killing our king,'" he continued. "'I will send word to Lord British if I can. If not, I'll do all in my power to warn Shamino.'"

A second sigh of relief passed my lips. The way Mariah had been acting in Mellorin's presence...strange that someone who had spent almost her entire life in the Keep of Truth had turned out to be a master of deception.

I just hoped that the other Avatar had been fooled.

At that moment, four gargoyles and three humans entered to take charge of the forge. Simultaneously, a large group of guards came in to relieve those still on the battlements.

"My thanks," I said to the guards over the din. "Did Mariah say aught else?"

"Nay, Avatar. She just told us to act as if we were taking thee into custody - oh, and to look mean."

I chuckled. "You both did well."

They saluted proudly then left to return to their duties. I gave the shortsword to a smith, kept my longsword, and made my way to my room in the Test of Truth. Someone had laid out a fresh shirt, leather armour and a green cloak on my bedroll. For a long moment, I simply stared at it. Then I changed out of what I was wearing and donned the new clothes. As I pulled the folded cloak from the bed I noticed the blanket of my bedroll was covering something hard. Tossing the cloak over one shoulder, I pulled the blanket aside.

Beneath was the Firedoom Axe. My eyes widened in temporary astonishment. I hadn't even missed it. Picking it up, I tested its familiar weight and balance before noticing the small scrap of parchment tied to the haft.

It was a note.

'Elora,

Since none seem to know where thou art, I'll leave thine axe here. The Isle still hath its share of thieves. The only reason armour is safe is because anyone owning or wearing it is automatically identified as a part of the fort's defence. Thou must have dropped the axe when we 'went swimming'. Two fisherpeople - Barraz and Chelly - found it tangled in their nets on Ambrosia. Thou owest them a new one, by the way.

Sentri.'

I unbuckled my longsword and traded it for the axe. Then, after a glance at the bracer, I headed back to the Statue Room hoping to speak with the Statue of Truth. Since both the Flames of Courage and Love were out, Truth was the only one left.

"_Truth, canst thou hear me_?"

The statue didn't reply.

"_Truth, please. If thou canst answer me, I have need of thine aid._"

The stone features remained cold and unmoving. No mind-voice answered my call.

I sighed and stared up at the monument for a minute, thinking. Truth had said that he would be able to speak for as long as the Flame of Truth burned, but the enemy didn't have control of the Lycaeum. Then again, they hadn't had control of Serpent's Hold, and the Flame of Courage had gone out...seemingly of itself, I added. When I had died casting Mass Death. I blinked as that thought registered. What if my death had been the thing to cause the dousing of the Flame of Courage? According to Katrina, the two events had been almost simultaneous. And what if the Flame of Truth had _also _gone out at that time?

Spinning around, I ran from the room and through the forge to the stairs. Taking the steps two at a time, I hastened to the battlements and went quickly to the eastern wall. Leaning into one of the crenellations I sent my sight out over the water. It would have been difficult to navigate with no points of reference, but the stars were still bright. Keeping my attention half-fixed on some constellations, I sped through the night faster than an arrow. When I finally reached the shores of Verity Isle I paused to look at the army surrounding the Keep of Truth. They were not attacking at this time. Bright orange tents and banners depicting the Guardian's face surrounded most of the keep. Campfires aplenty flickered from the ground, glinting against the armour of soldiers unlucky enough to have pulled night patrol. Sparing a moment, I attempted to make a guess as to how many foes were here. With a sinking feeling I realised that unless a good number of tents picketed here were empty, there were at least as many soldiers here as there had been at Serpent's Hold. Belatedly, I noticed a large pyre some distance from the northern wall. It seemed the enemy had already been paying a heavy toll in their efforts to capture the mages' keep. 

Allowing myself a smile of approval for the defenders, I swept down to touch the mind of a mage on guard atop the Lycaeum's battlements.

"_Greetings to thee_," I began politely.

The mage looked up and, it seemed, directly at me. "_Who art thou_?"

A bit taken aback by the abrupt reply, I telepathed, "_I am scrying from the Isle of Fire-_"

"_Then speak thy name. I know all the mages stationed there._"

"_Elora_."

"_The Avatar_?"

"_Yes_."

The connection was abruptly terminated and the mage turned to say something to his companions. I couldn't hear what was being said, but by the expressions of the mages, it appeared that something was amiss. I felt a couple of them brush tentatively against my mind before quickly withdrawing. After a minute of waiting patiently, albeit a little confusedly, I saw the mage I'd spoken to first look up to where my consciousness was hovering...then throw his right hand out to point in my direction.

Icy-white streamers of light lanced from his splayed fingers and I had only a moment to think, "_This doesn't look good_," before one of the bars of light struck.

Gasping, I was suddenly back on the Isle of Fire. I lurched forward into the crenellation, feeling certain I was about to throw up. It felt real enough, but, ultimately, nothing happened. In the time it took for the spell's effect to wear off, I decided that there must have been something to my mind that gave me away as an undead. Making a mental note to ask someone to check on the Lycaeum and its Eternal Flame in the morning, I headed downstairs for the teleport pad to Ambrosia. I might as well see if the liche could contribute anything.

***

There were clouds over Ambrosia, and a strong wind was blowing them north. An odd, hollow noise was coming from the south-west, and it took me a moment to realise that the sound was being caused by the wind blowing through the two gigantic skulls surmounting the cliffs lining the entrance of the bay. The sound was melodic and strangely calming.

I headed north-west. When I reached the entrance to the caves, I stopped and decided to go right rather than left. It seemed miners had opened up other passages and I felt like doing some exploring. Anyway, it wasn't like the liche in the western passage was going anywhere in a hurry. A small sign a little way down this new corridor gave me pause for a short while. It read, 'Authorised Personnel Only, by order of Lord Draxinusom'. After a moment's consideration on whether or not I was included in the list of 'Authorised Personnel', I moved on to wondering whether or not it would be Virtuous to keep going if I was not.

I was in a weird mood.

A few minutes of wandering accomplished nothing. The caves seemed quite empty and therefore quite boring. It wasn't until much later that I found a large branching passage that not only bore a crude sign, 'Danger! Do not enter!' but was also clogged with gigantic, sticky cobwebs. The large, rope-thick strands were spun from wall to wall, ceiling to floor. The tunnel itself looked perhaps wide enough for one tall gargoyle to walk down with outstretched wings. After a minute of searching the darkness for the spiders that had spun these webs, I concentrated and pointed. A fireburst melted through each strand that connected to the tunnel, causing the webs to collapse. I could have simply destroyed them by casting Flamewind, or by using my axe, but I'd reasoned that if they were intact, and if the tunnel was safe enough, someone could salvage the webs for spider silk. Also, I'd wanted to see how far my spellcasting could go before I felt mentally tired.

When I ran out of webs and was still going strong, I cast Protection. Foregoing hand gestures, I cast Flameproof. Ignoring spoken incantation, I cast Invisibility. With nothing but thought, I added Ironflesh, Mass Might, Speed and Telekinesis. Then I cast Negate Magic and cancelled it all.

"The taste of power is sweet, isn't it, liche?" a voice rumbled from down the large passage. "Soon wilt thou be using power merely for the sake of using it."

Glancing at the Danger sign once more, I shrugged and started slowly down the passage. "I prefer wit to magic," I replied, stepping over the sticky piles on the floor, then around a hidden trap set in the middle of the tunnel.

"We will see."

A red shape leaped at me from the darkness. My first thought, _gargoyle_, was swiftly dispelled by the sound of a hellish voice snarling a demand for blood. Wings extended and swept down, the daemon literally flying into my arms. I seized the wrists of the daemon's outstretched arms and heaved, leaning backwards and using his momentum to flip him over and my weight to force him to the ground.

My arms were almost jolted from their sockets when the daemon landed flat on his back on the trap, then was jerked halfway up to the roof by a rising spike of stone as a result.

"Well done," the rumbling voice said with grudging approval. "Thou seemest to be a wily one. I haven't had a good challenge in decades."

"I didn't really come here to fight," I said, standing and checking my arms still worked. Turning my back on the impaled daemon, I kept walking. "I'm exploring."

"Sure," the voice replied with heavy contempt. "That's what they all say. I bet thou wouldst not be so eager if mine hoard were somewhere other than here."

"Hoard? You're a dragon!"

"A dragon who is all to happy to flame any over-curious undead," was the ominous response. "Or art thou here to contribute something to my collection?"

"Well, I _do _have something. If you can open it, you can have it."

There was a pause before the voice replied. This time it sounded immensely curious. "Is that meant to be a riddle?"

"Do you like riddles?" I asked, relieved that the conversation seemed to be taking a more favourable turn.

"Doesn't everybody? _I am nothing, I do nothing. Mine opposite doth destroy me even as it maketh me._"

"Shadow."

"Quick work," the dragon rumbled admiringly.

"Thank you," I replied modestly. "May I come in?"

"I suppose I can endure the presence of an educated undead for a while."

"Please don't breathe too heavily - I'm highly combustible."

There was a short laugh. "Why shouldn't I fry thee?"

What could anyone say to impress a dragon? "I'm a great heroine?"

"Oh, really?"

"I'm the Avatar."

There was a roar of laughter and a bright, flaming light up ahead. "There's no way in the Eight Circles of Hell that the Avatar of Britannia is an undead, ice-hearted liche!"

"I thought there were only seven hells."

"Yeah? Well thou hast obviously not visited Pagan."

I edged closer to the entrance. "No, I haven't had the pleasure."

"Enter the cavern and you might," was the growling reply. "And since you aren't chewing your tongue off with all those 'thee's and 'thou's, why should I?"

"I'm coming in."

The dragon within lounged indolently on a large pile of gold coins. Some of them were even Britannian. Swords, spears and various other sharp and pointy things were piled to one side of the cavern while armour, shields and helmets dominated the other. There was also, I noticed with a twinge of unease, a rather imposing collection of bones strewn around. The glow of magic came from the wall behind the dragon. The dragon herself was a good sized one. She could have comfortably nestled into the garden courtyard of Castle Britannia - provided she'd ripped out the trees and fountain first. Her scales were a brilliant vermilion red, golden spikes streaked back from her brow and continued down her spine to the long, pointed tail, while plates of the same colour ran down her chest from neck to tailtip. Eyes that glowed like fire in a forge fixed on me menacingly and ivory talons grated against the coins of her golden bed as she pushed herself up and drew a deep breath, eyes glittering.

"Wait!" I shouted in alarm. I remembered the test Lord British had given to prove I was the Avatar. "Look!" I pulled at the Ankh's chain, almost panicked when I discovered it had caught on something and wouldn't move. Quickly, I tugged open the throat of my vest and shirt.

The dragon released her breath slowly, sending streamers of flame a short distance from her gleaming teeth. "An Ankh?" she said, puzzled. "How is that possible?"

"I told you," I said, pulling the chain harder. "I'm the Avatar." Yanking once more, I felt the closest thing to pain since the spell I'd cast at the funeral pyre. The Ankh had actually fused to my skin!

"But the Avatar is not a liche!" the dragon exclaimed. "_Kemah-thra_! Stop pulling that thing and look at me!"

I carefully touched the amulet with a finger, then looked up into the burning eyes above me. Holding up my right arm to display the bracer, I said, "This is how it happened. If you can remove it-"

"_Kemah-thra_!" she said again, in horror. Drawing back with wide eyes, she stared at me. "A black _kel'al_? That is forbidden!"

"_Kel'al_? I thought this thing was called an..._aeth'raesh_omething."

"_Aeth'raesh'al_. I take it you were wearing it and somehow managed to die?" I nodded. "_Kemah-thra_...there is a double of you out there? A black New Self? A black _Avatar_?"

I told her what had happened, not leaving out anything I thought important - not even the Guardian.

"Mors Gotha..." the dragon's eyes narrowed. "Ah, yes...the _ka-thra_. World traveller and Guardian servant. Well, that explains how the _aeth'raesh'al_ got to Britannia, but not how it was made. Or by who." She paused and nodded at me. "Sit, Avatar. This explanation may take a while. I know you won't tire standing, but it makes _me _tired watching you."

"If it's from another world, then you..." I left it hanging.

The dragon nodded her huge head. "I am also from another world. Sit."

I sat and crossed my legs. "My friends are in danger - some were fooled by my double and went with her. I must find them as soon as I can."

Her eyes narrowed. "Don't hurry me, liche. I have no reason to like you. You killed Dracothraxus - she who was my friend."

_The guardian of the Talisman of Courage,_ I thought.

"The only reason I'm helping you is because you're the Champion of Infinity, which means you are _worthy_ of my aid. I have no affection for Britannia - it's not my home."

"Then what is?"

"I probably wouldn't recognise it if I found it again. It fell to the one who's currently after _this _world. I was saved by these caves. 'Lost Isle of Ambrosia', ha!" Her reptilian mouth quirked into a half-smile. "I've always found that Britannian human notion amusing. 'Lost Isle', indeed." She exhaled a short burst of flame as she laughed.

"What?" I shouted, as the noise echoed around the cavern. "What do you mean?"

"Ambrosia, as you call it, is not a fixed place." The dragon paused to chuckle again. "It travels. Comes and goes between worlds depending on the time, season, moons, stars, its mood-"

"It's _mood_? Is the island alive or something?"

The dragon shrugged her wings and glanced around at the stone walls with a curious affection. "Could be. There's no pattern to its actions. Some worlds I've seen as many as ten times, others just once - my own, for example." she looked a little sad at that. "Then again, maybe the island's just smart enough to know it's not safe to return there. Doubtless that big red muppet would have harnessed its power like he does with everything else."

"What!" I exclaimed. "Muppet? As in Jim Henson?"

"Oh, you've been to Earth?"

"That's my home!"

"Terribly stuffy place," the dragon rumbled. "And the people! No respect! First time I went there I almost got killed by some idiot called George."

"_Saint _George?"

She snorted. "Saint. Sure. Not only does he get that title, they make out that he kills me!" She laughed again. "Of course, it was more fun in those days. Today they'd as soon blow you out of the sky before considering a few human sacrifices."

I stared at her in absolute horror.

"Oh, _please_. I'd never eat, let alone kill, any sentient life. Sacrifices are flattering, but completely unnecessary. I soon made it clear that sheep or cattle were more to my taste."

"Uh...ok. So what was your island called on Earth?"

"Oh, um..." she frowned. "'Avalon', or something. Dreadful climate for a dragon. Too much mist. Britannia's much more to my liking, though the island's taking its time on this visit. Two hundred years now."

"Maybe it has something to do with the Guardian," I suggested. "The time lapse on Britannia between now and my last visit here is just over two centuries."

"Another reason for me to help you, eh?" she growled.

This was one unpredictable dragon. I wondered if she expected an answer.

"No, I think it had something to do with that _kemah-thra_ damned meteor. Then that hydra moves in as if they own the place - my thanks for getting rid of them, by the way - and a fairy escapes from my collection of familiars! Love dust? Bah! I had to seal up my cavern to get any sleep!"

I cleared my throat delicately.

"Oh, yes. Help. You are wearing an artefact made by my people. It's called an _aeth'raesh'al_, which literally means 'Mind Split Prism'. The heart jewel, the _kel'al_, is the jewel of power. That's the one in the middle. It could be set in almost any crystalline matter that could be fashioned to be worn on an arm or hand - ring, bracelet, armband, so on and so forth. Let me start from the beginning.

"One branch of my people were called the Draconic Jewellers. These were the dragons who hoarded jewels and gemstones, as I do not. Perhaps it is a phenomenon, else it has only happened with my people and no other race or species I've met, but the longer these jewels spent in the presence of one of my people, the more power was transferred into them. Massive amounts of power. It didn't detract from my people, but it _did _add to the jewels.

"The most magically gifted among my kind discovered that the more potent stones could be 'tuned' in such a way that it linked to the mind of the user. It could change a person for better or worse, depending on how it was tuned. The greater the power, the bigger the change it could make."

"What do you mean by 'change'?"

"Change of mind. Change of heart. It would change your very life. It could make an evil person good or vice versa."

"I don't accept that. Nothing has the power to control an unwilling mind."

"Did I say the minds were unwilling?" said the dragon. "You're right, but all you needed was one split second of willingness to be changed, no matter how inadvertent, and you would be. Anyway, things progressed and my people vowed not to use their powers to tune evil stones." She looked at the bracer I wore. "Seems someone didn't take that vow seriously.

"In an attempt to stabilise that random power of the jewels, my people recruited elven mage-weaponsmiths. The elvers first tried to link the jewels with swords, but the steel couldn't contain that kind of power - no metal could. Precious stones would be impractical for weapons, they thought, so they fashioned things like armbands out of agate, quartz, jade, onyx, obsidian and moonstone. Using their magic, and at the advice of the dragons, they cast several safeguarding spells on the bracers and _kel'ali_, which were then called _aeth'raesh'ali._" She raised a claw, extending one talon. "An _aeth'raesh'al_ would resurrect its wearer's New Self as dictated by its tuning."

"Wait. New Self?"

"Unless it's been killed, there's another Avatar running around out there who looks exactly like you. It's alive as you are not. It is the one with the 'change of mind' I mentioned."

"And 'tuned'?"

"Imagine a prism. Light shines through it and divides to form a rainbow spectrum. This prism could be fashioned so as to show only a part of the spectrum, or several parts, or none. Your mind is the light - the original light. When you died, it shone through the Mind Split Prism and produced a spectrum."

"But it was black. There's no such thing as black light."

"Think of your Virtues - and disregard Humility, here - as coloured light. Their opposites - Hatred and all - are the _absence _of that light. A black spectrum means no light and no Virtue." She sighed. "The purpose of the _aeth'raesh'ali _was to help make us into better people. They could filter out everything evil - all Deceit, Cowardice, contempt, everything."

"I'm starting to see a few holes here. How can these prisms filter out evil if evil is darkness? Couldn't they only filter out light?"

"Maybe I'm just terrible with analogies. No, they could filter good as well as evil. What my people didn't realise then was that some of the things they filtered out made them weak. Killing - violence, for example. Just after the vast majority of my people became fanatic pacifists, we were invaded by the Guardian's army. Those of us who still knew what fear was fled. As far as I know, I'm the only one who survived."

"Did all your people use these _aeth'raesh'al_ things?"

"No. There weren't that many, actually, and they were hard to make. Of course, ours wasn't exactly a large population. Our lifespans are long and eggs are few and far between." she shrugged. "The _aeth'raesh'ali _could only be used once each. It takes centuries for the _kel'ali _to be recharged, and even then, it has to be done by the dragon who had tuned it."

"All right. Now, back to the main topic. Where does this New Self fit in?"

The dragon nodded. "As I said, the _aeth'raesh'al_ is activated at its wearer's death. What it does then, is resurrect the wearer according to how the _kel'al _is tuned. So the likeness of you that's out there is exactly the same as you except for its personality or state of mind. That is your 'New Self'. A safeguarding spell was put on the _aeth'raesh'ali_ to give the New Self the option of going back to what they used to be." She raised a second talon. "To do this, the original mind had to be kept. I don't know the specifics, but the mage-weaponsmiths found a way to do this with sort of cloning or duplication spell. When the New Self is made, within twenty hours of death and housed in the original _body_, a double of the body and everything it's wearing or holding is created to house the original _mind_. A corpse. You, still dead." She paused. "I take it you weren't holding the Blacksword?"

"How did you know about Arcadion?"

The dragon shook her head. "Dracothraxus told me she knew how she'd be killed, once. I had no reason to disbelieve her."

I sighed. "I needed the Talisman of Courage."

"I know," was the sad reply. "One other thing, though. Were you wearing that Ankh?"

I started. "Yes."

She sucked in a breath. "You haven't seen your New Self, have you?"

"I did, but I don't remember her wearing an Ankh." I shrugged helplessly. "If she were, it must have been under her mail shirt. Is it important?"

"I don't know. Do you know what powers that amulet has?"

"Specifically? No."

"You know, it's interesting. Those things are supposed to burn through the undead like a red-hot blade through butter. It's supposed to cause unspeakable pain. Does it hurt wearing it?"

"Only just before when I tried to take it off," I said, touching it. "It's...stuck."

"So it _did _burn you, in a fashion." She looked intrigued. "It must have recognised you." The dragon's scaly brows lowered into a frown. "It's an interesting amulet you have there. Symbol of life on several worlds, and no idea where it came from.

"Anyway, we have the New Self - alive and different - and the original - dead - which we called the Old Self."

"Me?"

"Yes. Right then, the New Self has the option of staying how it is and ending the existence of the Old. All it has to do is take the original's _aeth'raesh'al _and wear it. Then it would basically be end of story. The Old Self ceases to exist since the original mind is no longer needed, the _aeth'raesh'al_ recombines and the _kel'al _rendered powerless. In your case, however, the New Self _didn't _take the opportunity of destroying you."

"The Guardian wants to see which of us is the stronger," I said.

"That's the kind of concept one would expect from him. He can't stand being beaten, which is why he won't leave you alone. He won't rest until either you're his, or he's dead." She shifted her wings a little before continuing. "After...seven Britannian days? Well, something like that, the Old Self is raised as an undead by the _aeth'raesh'al_. To do this, some fairly complicated spells had to be cast on it. Another thing I don't fully understand, but the Old Self had to be in a state other than death if the New Self wanted to surrender its _aeth'raesh'al_ and return to normal."

"And that would be done by me wearing her bracer?"

She nodded.

"So all I have to do is take her bracer, then."

"Ahh, no, I'm afraid it's not that simple." The dragon hunched a bit lower. "Because of the vow made against creating evil _kel'ali_, it was assumed that any New Self would be better than an Old, so the power to remove either bracer was given solely to the new Self."

I lowered my head in dismay. "And that's the only way to get rid of her?"

"Well, no, you could kill her. That would certainly get rid of her. Even if she's dead, however, only she can remove her _aeth'raesh'al_. You can't take it."

"I can't destroy the bracer?"

"That would mean destroying yourself and her. The _aeth'raesh'al_ is what keeps you undead. Until either she becomes you or you become her, it also keeps her in existence - she still needs you because her mind is based on yours. The magic isn't complete until the choice is made and only one of you wears the _aeth'raesh'al_."

"But I couldn't take it off before I died, either. Why is that?"

The dragon looked at her two outstretched talons, then extended two more. "The _aeth'raesh'al_ could not be removed once its wearer spilled any kind of blood in violence with the arm wearing it." She gave me an expectant glance.

I slumped a little. "A soldier - a daemon. He was the one who put the bracer on me, then let me kill him."

She sighed. "That rule was instated when my people became pacifists."

"And because the bracer would make the wearer 'a better person', they decided not to let such violent people be able to remove it?"

With a shrug that made the light shift over her red scales, the dragon said, "Don't blame me. I didn't do it.

"I've already explained the third safeguard, I think; a semblance of the wearer's original self, undead, would be raised seven days later in case the New Self was unhappy and wanted to return. Five: At the time between death and the resurrection of the New Self, anyone could remove the _aeth'raesh'al_. This period begins when the _kel'al_ displays its tuning. In your case, black. Six:" she held up her other foreclaw, "_aeth'raesh'ali _cannot be removed after death by the Old Self at all, nor by the New Self, unless in the presence of the Old. She can't remove her _aeth'raesh'al _unless you are with her."

"So at least she can't destroy me by destroying her bracer while I'm not around to prevent it."

"Oh, she can, she just can't take it off. This was so a New Self couldn't accidentally lose its _aeth'raesh'al_." The dragon lowered her claws to the gold coins she lay on. "And since that's all I know, that's all I can tell you."

"But there's more?"

"There's always more, but I was young when the Guardian invaded. I never learnt it all."

I sighed and rubbed my hands over my eyes...then cried out in horror as they fell out into my hands. My vision took on an angry red cast, and when I looked at the dragon I saw little more than a formless mass of blazing colours.

"Calm down, liche!" she said with a roar. "You're only decomposing! It's quite a natural process with the undead."

I stared into my own eyes, shivering violently. "What should I do with them?"

"_Kemah-thra_! You have a long way to go." She snorted. "Keep them. Toss them. I care not. Look, liche- "

"Stop calling me that!"

"What then? 'Avatar'? Ha!" Flames licked around her teeth again. "An undead Avatar. We'll see how long that lasts."

I felt a sudden chill. "I'm not a liche."

"You _are_. The creation is a different process, but you _are _a liche, and how many good liches do you know...Avatar?"

I said nothing. My thoughts momentarily flicked to my friend Horance of Skara Brae, formerly known as the Liche Lord, but despite his powers he was only a ghost.

"Now, I'll tell you two things before you leave. One: you can slow your decomposition the same way you cast other spells. If it helps, I'd use the incantation Des Tym Corp. Two: you might consider using illusions to make yourself look alive. It wasn't too obvious when you first walked in, but glowing eyes are a dead give-away."

I looked up, my hand closing over my eyeballs. "Glowing?"

"A rather nice green, actually. Too bad you can't use a mirror to see for yourself."

"I can't see properly, anyway."

"How so?"

"It's all red. And you look like a damn rainbow."

"Oh. You're just using your undead eyes, then. You're seeing my aura, I think."

"So how do I change my eyes back?"

She growled. "Just imagine you're looking through your own eyes! It's only changed because you _thought _it should change! Undead magic is based on thought, Avatar, that's why they are so feared. There's nothing to restrain them - not even themselves."

"I can handle it."

"That's what they all say." She laughed. "And it still amuses me. The only thing going your way is that you didn't _choose _to become a liche."

I concentrated on the spells she'd told me of. Almost instantly, my vision returned to normal. "How do I tell if that Slow Death spell is working?"

"If you're thinking about it, it's working. Your illusion is in place - very well done, too."

"You mean I have to think about it all the time?" I exclaimed.

"_Kemah-thra_ forbid, no! Just remember it every now and again. Think of it as a duration spell, then you should be fine." She scratched at her neck with one claw. "Besides, I'm sure there will always be plenty of people around you to point out when you start looking different."

We sat there in silence for a while. I went over the whole conversation, trying to find a way around the workings of the _aeth'raesh'al_. The way things stood, my only chance was to get Mellorin to give me her bracer. And how was I going to manage _that_? I frowned. _There is always a back door_. I'd learnt that lesson long ago.

"If I went to your world," I said suddenly, "would I find records of these things? More information?"

"Probably. But how would you get there?"

I stared at her in puzzlement for a moment. "The bracer has teleportation powers." The dragon continued to look at me blankly. "This one does, at least," I added. "Mors Gotha used it to transport herself and her army between the planes of reality. Maybe your world is still attuned to it."

The dragon shrugged indifferently and twitched her tail. A small avalanche of gold coins rolled down her hoard with a musical tinkle. "Then for what it's worth, my world was called 'Atarka'. My people lived in the Tuay Mountains, north of the Desert of Krain - the Northern Wasteland."

"You don't want to come?"

"Even if you do find it, _Avatar_, it was taken centuries ago. You can't save it now. I'll remember what it was - I have no wish to see what it has become." She gestured at the bracer I wore. "If any of my people live, _that _is testament to what the Guardian has corrupted them to do."

"There is more behind your words than what you're saying," I accused, rising to my feet. "I can't believe that you truly don't care, dragon."

Fangs bared, she snarled. "That is none of your business, _liche_."

"You didn't even try to save your home?"

"Not everyone is a heroine like you," she spat. "I wasn't about to defeat the Guardian, so why bother trying? That's not heroism - it's suicide." She drew herself up angrily, wings shifting. "My people alone know how to tune _kel'ali_. To face the Guardian meant risking capture and divulging that knowledge to him. I flew because I wasn't brave enough to kill myself."

"I'm sorry," I said softly, "but the Guardian is in the process of taking over Britannia. When he comes _here _and Ambrosia hasn't 'moved', what will you do?"

Smoke hissed from her nostrils. "I'll worry about that when it happens."

I looked down at my closed hands and caused the eyeballs they held to Vanish. Who knows when you might need one? Then I said, "Very well. Thanks for your help, dragon. If I manage to get through this and take Mellorin's bracer, I'll see what can be done to-"

"Mellorin?" she interrupted sharply.

"Yes. My double. The New Self."

"Oh." Whatever interest had sparked in her eyes seemed to vanish. "Yes, well. Have fun." She turned her head away.

I sighed and stepped to the edge of the tunnel. "For what it's worth, dragon, Dracothraxus isn't dead." Then I left.

***

The liche seized the bars of its prison window, its glowing crimson eyes looking at me eagerly. "Hast thou returned to free me-" it's bloodless lips twitched, "-Avatar?"

"Why are the undead gathering around Stonegate?"

"Prophecies, kinswoman, prophecies." The white fingers tightened on the bars. "One cannot tell if a prophecy is real until it comes to pass."

I let my 'undead vision' take over for a minute. Where the dragon had been every conceivable colour, the liche was a dull ash grey. Its eyes, however, remained red. I looked at my own hands and saw the same shade of grey.

"Thou seemest to be learning, kinswoman," the undead rasped. It smiled, revealing two straight rows of pointed teeth. "I can help thee. I can teach thee the ways of power."

"Tell me of the prophecies, first."

The liche's smile widened. "Thou knowest the prophecy - every undead knows it. Prophecy is the language of the Void - of Ether itself, kinswoman. Thou hast only to open thy mind and listen."

"Open my mind?" I repeated flatly.

"There is no danger. Just listen. Listen with thine undead senses, kinswoman."

...._While living fight and living die,_

The undead hosts will raise the cry:

"Death to all things great and small,

Death to those who rule them all."

Let all undead with flesh or bone

Gather at the Gate of Stone,

For one with Life still at their chest

Will unlock the door to seal their quest.

Descend, they will, descend straight down

To find our king's unholy crown.

When 'cross their brow the crown doth sit,

Our darkling flames will then be lit.

And life spells will by ours to cast

As this poor world doth breathe her last...

"It's happening as foretold," the liche hissed. "The living war and we gather at Stonegate. We must hasten!"

I heard someone approaching me from behind, but felt no hostility. The liche backed away with a snarl and retreated to the far side of its cell. "What's beneath Stonegate that's so important?" I asked without turning.

The heavy steps halted and I felt heat against my back as I was answered. "The Crown of the Liche King." The dragon dropped to her haunches. "As far as I and Dracothraxus were able to determine, this artefact will give its undead wearer life. That undead will thereafter be able to bestow a measure of life to other undead."

"That means they can cast life spells, right? Spells with 'Mani'?"

"I don't think they'll be interested in opening any Healer Houses, Avatar. Ask any undead. Had they the life-force, they'd cast Armageddon."

"Not _this _undead." I paused. "Could I remove the bracer if I were alive?"

Her sigh was like a desert wind. "This I don't know. Anyway, the Gate of Stone can only be opened by one who still has life. Isn't that how the prophecy goes?"

"_'One with Life still at their chest_,'" I quoted. "Sounds like it. But you said only an undead can wear the Crown."

She shrugged. "So they become a liche after opening the gate and before donning the Crown. The Dark Prophecies hold little interest for me, Avatar. I want to ask you something before you go world travelling."

I looked at her curiously. "What is it?"

"Can I come?"

"What made you change your mind?"

"I don't need an _aeth'raesh'al_ to change my mind for me," she said with a low growl. "I'm coming because I want to defy my destiny. It seems that today is the day for prophecies, Avatar. Not only am I forbidden to take the life of any sentient being, but if I fight against the Guardian I will die. That fate was laid upon me when I was a day-old hatchling. I won't fight for you, Avatar. I'll help, but I won't fight."

"So...why come? Why do you want to help?"

"You called your New Self 'Mellorin'. In the ancient tongue of my people, that means 'World Destroyer'. '_The black light will dawn upon the slayer of a thousand Atarkans as she standeth in the shadow of the Serpent. The very ground will tremble as her feet touch the ground, and she shall have a daemon for a weapon. In the day that the Spirit-soul payeth homage to her, despair. Our world, and many others besides, will be no more._ _The World Destroyer will walk among us_.' You see? If she defeats you here, she will be responsible for the obliteration of more worlds than you can imagine. Including my own."

I hesitated. "What does Spirit-soul mean?"

"_Ava-tar._ Life." She lowered her burning eyes. "I _do _care, Avatar. It's just been so long that until now, I'd forgotten what it felt like."

I ventured to touch one of the red-scaled forearms, as if the dragon were an old friend. "I'd be very grateful if you'd come. When I reach your world, I'll need a guide."

The dragon nodded curtly, then turned and headed to the exit. "Let's go, then."

I sidestepped her tail as it swished around, watching her go back up the tunnel for a moment before looking at the imprisoned undead.

"Free me," the liche said in a dusty whisper.

"Would _you _cast Armageddon?"

"Who wouldn't?" the liche whispered. "The living are a plague. Bring them to our ranks and there would be true peace. Free me."

I looked at it. "Very well, but I'm releasing you from more than just this prison." And I pointed at the door.

The liche hurried forward eagerly, its face pressed against the bars. "_Hassssste_!" it hissed. Its command suddenly became an agonised shriek as the door burst inwards with a sharp detonation and exploded into angry red flames. Both door and liche were ashes a few seconds later.

The dragon suddenly returned, but her look of impatience vanished when she saw what I'd done. After the echoes of the liche's cry had vanished, she gave me an expressionless glance then went back the way she'd come.

I followed her a minute later. Already, power was becoming a part of my 'life'. Already, I'd used it without a second thought and I'd used it to kill. I clenched my right hand.

Already, it was frightening.

I tried to shrug it off. It was a liche! Wasn't it basically my _duty _to get rid of them? Even when they were helpless?

"Are you coming, liche?" the dragon demanded.

"I'm not a liche!" I protested vehemently.

"Yes you are!"

"No I'm not!"

"Yes you are!"

"_No I'm not_!"

"_YES YOU ARE_!" she bellowed. "What you just did...you're a liche!"

I sighed deeply. For some reason, though, I couldn't bring myself to apologise. "Just don't call me one, please."

She just laughed and continued down the corridor. "So I call you 'Avatar', then?"

I jumped her tail as it swished across in front of me. "Avatar is fine, thanks."

She snorted and muttered something about undead Avatars.

"What do I call you?"

"Whatever you want. I don't care."

"Don't you have a name?"

She ignored me and proceeded to step outside into broad daylight. The clouds above Ambrosia had blown away and the sun was almost at its zenith. A fresh, southerly wind was blowing and the grass looked very green.

"Stupid animal," the dragon muttered, and swatted a panic-stricken sheep with a foreclaw, almost knocking it unconscious.

The rest of the flock stampeded their terrified shepherd. I'd never..._ever_ seen sheep stampede before.

"Climb up," the red dragon ordered me. "I hope you're not afraid of heights."

"Magic carpets only go so high," I replied, clambering up the creature's assisting foreclaw. "I've never ridden a dragon before."

"Probably has something to do with your reputation of killing them."

I felt it wise to shut up at this point, and simply hung on. The dragon crouched and spread her wings wide, gathering herself for a leap into the sky. I felt her muscles bunch, then her hind legs snapped straight out and pushed the two of us into the air. At the same time, her vast wings swept downwards and she let out a roar of fierce joy.

We were aloft.

Ambrosia quickly became smaller as we gained altitude. I could already make out land to the far west, but couldn't tell if this was because of my 'new' eyes. The sea was spread out between the landmasses, its intense sapphire and jade waves and sparkling diamond whitecaps shattering the sunlight and casting it in all directions.

"Are we going much higher?" I shouted as we lifted above an errant cloud. "I don't want to pass out from lack of air, you know!"

"You can't breathe, liche!" she shouted back, venting a short burst of fire.

I ground my teeth. "We need to go to the Isle of Fire, but if you insist on flying there, the people will attack-"

"I have every confidence that you'll talk them out of that."

"Thanks."

She spiralled higher, stretching her wings to their limits until Ambrosia was little more than a speck below us. Then she turned southwest with a lazy beat of her wings and we shot forward like an arrow. Actually, it was more like a bullet. I held on tight and watched the world pass me by.

It was incredible.

All too soon, in my opinion, the mountainous island that was our destination appeared below us. It resembled nothing more than an oddly shaped rock sticking up out of the water.

"Wait!" I shouted, when the dragon would have begun her descent. "Let me try something." I turned my thoughts inward and sent them out. "_Dupre! Can you hear me?_"

The answer came almost immediately. "_Yes, but how do I know that this is the real Elora_?"

"_You know I can't prove that without you seeing the Ankh. Look, is there a telescope anywhere near you_?"

"_I don't think so_."

"_If you're on the battlements, look up. I'm...I'm riding a dragon._"

The dragon made it obvious that she could hear my every word by laughing. "'Riding'?"

"I'm sitting on your back, aren't I?"

"Anyone can sit on another creature's back and call it riding."

"_Make that, I'm being carried by a dragon_."

"_I'll take thy word for it, Avatar_," Dupre replied in a bewildered thought-voice.

"_We're coming down. Don't let anyone shoot us._"

"_Very well. I'll pass the order._" A minute passed before we got the 'go ahead'.

The dragon angled her wings, faced down, then dropped like a stone. My heart leaped into my throat. Some things undeath apparently didn't change. The wind screamed past us and the Isle of Fire approached at a very alarming rate. My eyes couldn't get any wider at this stage.

"Hold on, Avatar!"

Her wings flared out at the last minute and we swept over the battlements of the Fort. I looked back as we went north to see several guards regaining their feet. Then we were turning again, slowing down. The dragon flapped her wings and landed gracefully on the ramparts, her tail coiling around her so as not to crush anyone.

As I slid off her back, the guards suddenly started cheering. Surprised, I asked Dupre what was going on.

"The lookouts just reported two warships sailing towards this isle," he answered softly as he looked the dragon over with obvious admiration. "These people are cheering thee because they think thou hast brought the dragon to help fight the enemy."

"You told them this?"

"Not in so many words, Elora."

I looked up at the dragon who returned my gaze and made no comment. "How close are they?"

"They'll be entering the bay in scarcely four hours, they think."

"_That _close? Why didn't they find this out earlier?"

"It's not their fault, Elora. The enemy must have a couple of mages or something onboard; the ships were blocked from magical view. A scrying shield."

"Damn." I quickly told him about my encounter with Mellorin and how Mariah had gone with her.

The knight rubbed his eyes wearily. "I see."

"Sir Dupre!" a warrior shouted, eyeing the dragon askance.

"What?"

"The lookouts report, Sir Dupre. The ships are smaller fighting vessels. They could only sensibly hold one hundred soldiers each."

"Do we know they're carrying soldiers?" I asked.

"We can't see that close, Avatar," the warrior apologised.

"They're carrying soldiers," the dragon rumbled, her tone indifferent.

"You can see them from here?" I asked.

"No, I saw them before from the air."

"Thank thee." Dupre turned to me. "Now that we have a good idea of the odds, we can mount a suitable defence."

I raised a brow, a smile teasing my lips. "'We'?"

"Of course, Avatar. _Thou _art going to lead it."

***

"I'll just perch up on the mountains," the dragon said with a shrug. "I could shapechange if you really think it necessary, but I'll get a better view as a dragon."

"Shapechange?"

"Did I forget to mention my race can do that?"

"Yes, actually."

"How silly of me." She suddenly started to glow, then shrink, her form distorting to that of a human. Then she _was _a human. Her long, red-gold hair tumbled down her back and she was _very _beautiful. It was almost embarrassing to look at her. She wore scale armour, high boots of some kind of hide, and a cloak, all the same red colour as her dragon form.

If the transformation hadn't caught the attention of the majority of those on guard, her new form _did_.

I noticed a few of the other guards grinning openly at their companions' slack jaws.

"That's...a useful talent," I managed.

"It's handy," the dragon-woman agreed, absently examining her fingernails. "But I much prefer my natural form. Humans are too mundane."

"So you're not going to fight in this battle?"

"No. I will watch. I've never seen the famous Avatar in battle before."

I got the odd feeling that she'd meant to say more, but hadn't. "I'll try to live up to my reputation."

A look of pity flickered across her face for a brief instant, but it vanished as she resumed her dragon form. "I'll be watching." Then she launched herself off the edge of the battlements and swooped over the bay, circling to find a vantage point.

"She doth make me feel uneasy," Lord British said. The monarch had approached me from behind, but now stepped to my side, his hair blowing back in the wake of the dragon's wings. "There's more to her than meets the eye, and I'm not speaking of her shapechanging powers."

"Any word from Mariah?" I asked softly.

"None as yet, Elora, but it hath not been long."

A loud scraping noise that immediately set my teeth on edge came from the north. The dragon was sharpening her talons on an outcrop of her mountain.

"_Would you please stop that_?" I asked her silently.

"As I said, she's strange." Lord British folded his arms across the front of his mail shirt and waited for the echoes of the scraping to cease. "I'm not sure I trust her."

This from the man who'd trusted _Batlin_? "What's wrong with her?"

"Nothing _wrong_...just suspect. Isn't it strange that she happens to be from the same world that bracer is from? And stranger that _thou_, the person wearing it, happens to find her?"

I rubbed my chin thoughtfully. "I'll keep an eye on her, Richard."

Just then, Iolo appeared with another ten archers. "Everyone's in position, my Lord," he reported. With a wave of his arm he sent his archers to join their fellow defenders across the battlements.

"And here they come," I said, pointing south.

The two small frigates, one behind the other,had just started to sail up the channel towards the fort. I could make out Guardian banners floating from the topmasts above the large sails. Everyone just watched in silence as they approached. Today, people were going to fight. Many would never see daylight again before this war was over.

The ships eventually drew close to shore and somewhere near two hundred soldiers poured out onto the beach.

"A respectable number," Iolo said, fingering the point of a crossbow bolt. "Just say the word and mine archers will reduce it to something more manageable."

Lord British smiled.

This fort had been built for defence. We had archers standing in nooks and shallow caves all along the cliffs and lining the battlements. There wasn't a single place on the isle where one could disembark and be safe from ranged weapons. When Julia returned from Buccaneers' Den with the supplies - namely the cannonballs - no _ship _would be safe from even entering the bay.

"I'll see to our soldiers, Milord," I said, then descended to the courtyard where I'd lead the ground defence. Two hundred warriors - human and gargoyle - crowded the open area of the fort. We had between six and seven hundred capable fighters, but only arms enough for one hundred and fifty, not including the archers or gargoyles who preferred their own weapons and armour.

"Everything is ready, Avatar," Dupre said as I reached the closed portcullis.

I nodded. "By rights, you should be leading this charge, old friend."

"I'm happy enough giving leadership to thee," he replied with a smile. "This way, thou wilt get all the credit if we lose."

"Lose? Ha! Not one of those Guardian lovers will live to see another morning!" I put on my greathelm, since my undead body needed all the protection I could give it. I'd found I was able to support quite a bit of weight, so armour wasn't a problem there. On the other hand, it _did _detract from ease of movement, so I'd steadfastly refused the notion of wearing plate. Instead I was wearing hard leather boots, steel greaves, chain leggings, a chainmail shirt beneath a hauberk of studded leather, and a chain coif under my greathelm. 

This would be no minor skirmish.

"Remind me why we're doing this again. Attacking, I mean."

"How long have our people been on the Isle of Fire?"

"A few months. But are they so keen to see action that they're willing to die?"

"How many of their friends and family have died?"

"Point taken, but that's not really a sensible answer. The archers could take care of everything."

Dupre nodded his agreement. "When we received the news, a lot of other people heard it. We have our own ideas of fighting this war, and other people, naturally, have their own ideas."

"They demanded we attack?"

"Lord British didn't let it go that far, but it might have. The vote he arranged answered the question pretty quickly."

I sighed. "Yet so many of these people have never fought before? They're not worried about dying?"

The knight shook his head then gave me a tight smile. "That should answer thine own question. They've never fought before." He returned his gaze to the army outside. "And in the ballads, the heroes never die."

"In the name of the Guardian, we call upon the fort of the Isle of Fire to surrender!" someone from without shouted. "Give up the keep, the king and the Avatar, then the people will be spared."

I was suddenly reminded of the choice Mellorin had given me. Before I could be drawn into another brooding train of thought, Dupre murmured, "That one's mine."

A smile tugged my mouth. "Why?"

"He just issued a challenge, Elora. Thou must learn to take this kind of thing personally."

I fought hard to suppress a chuckle. "Oh? You're just insulted because you weren't included in his announcement."

The knight sniffed loftily, but had no chance to reply. Lord British's voice drifted down from above, then Iolo echoed him in a voice that reverberated throughout the entire bay. "_FIRE_!"

Bowstrings sang and crossbows clacked. A storm of Britannian blue-and-silver fletched arrows and bolts rained down on the invaders' hastily raised shields.

"Raise the portcullis!" Dupre roared.

The iron grating rose. I drew the Firedoom Axe and held it up. A steely rasp heralded the drawing of swords, the raising of axes and maces, of morning stars and halberds, of spears and iron-shod staves. "Form ranks!" I shouted, lowering my weapon in a cutting gesture.

While the archers kept the enemy at bay, my foot soldiers trooped out the gates and assembled near the walls of the fort. Dupre clasped my shoulder briefly then went off to join the east flank while another knight took the west. Fifty soldiers each and my hundred - the driving point of the attack.

I raised a mailed fist and called thunder. It was a signal to the archers to cease fire. The rain of shafts stopped, but the enemy, cautious, remained with their shields in place. Maybe fifty or sixty of their number littered the shoreline. Before they had a chance to recover, I thrust my axe into the air and shouted, "_Charge_!"

As with one voice, the soldiers running behind me bellowed, "_Virtue_!"

The enemy lowered their shields, saw us and ran to meet the attack with frenzied cries of "_Guardian_!"

Charging headlong at the enemy, I whispered, "_Valour guide our arms, Justice be our shield. Courage live in all our ways and never let us yield_."

Then the battle was joined.

***

There wasn't anywhere near the number of foes as we'd faced at Serpent's Hold, but being inside one battle is much like being inside another. I was lost in a violent sea of friends and foes; adrift amidst the sounds of screams, weapons and armour, the scents of blood, sweat and fear. Experience enabled me to keep my head and fight well, but many of our fighters had no actual, first-hand knowledge of this kind of thing. They'd been jerked out of their homes as a hostile army marched across the land, then sent to a place they'd never seen before and had a weapon shoved into their hands.

"_Courage be with us_..."

It's almost impossible to describe a battlefield, as everything happens so quickly. My axe blurred as I dealt stroke after stroke, felled foe after foe. We cut deep into the enemy formation while the east and west flanks rushed in to attack from the sides.

"_Ka-thra_!" someone screamed, just before my axe crunched into her breastplate.

Then, without warning, as if driven by instinct, my magic came into play. Five Killorn soldiers were simultaneously struck down by Lightning. Two fell over when sudden Sleep gripped them. A second pair started throwing up as Poison lanced through their bloodstreams. Another ten tripped over their own weapons or failed to parry a Britannian blow as a Curse fell upon them. Letting a breath hiss out from between my teeth, I got a grip on myself. My shift in concentration almost cost me as a spear flew past my head from behind. Ducking instinctively, I whirled and abruptly found myself engaging the commanding officer.

"_Ka-thra_," he acknowledged calmly, blade lifting slightly in salute.

I returned the gesture with my axe then braced myself. A swift glance through undead eyes told me that this man was a daemon. A spell of Protection blanketed me just as I delivered my initial attack.

The daemon-soldier fought well, but was no match for the Avatar. I backed him up to the very edge of the waterline before he overbalanced and caught my axe-blade across his neck. Hot blood splashed into my face and I hastily wiped it off with my gloved hands before it could burn me. Then, with startling quickness, the commander regained his true form. Red muscles tore his mail apart and horns punched through his iron helmet. Taloned hands threw away sword and shield, then lashed out to rake deep grooves on my greathelm.

I ducked under the groping arms and tore a gash in the daemon's stomach. With a spurting noise, his entrails came boiling out and tangled his hoofed feet.

I hadn't considered that daemons might have intestines.

He fell face down with a horrible snarl, almost taking me with him as one vast, scarlet wing struck my shoulder. I managed to shove it aside, then, taking my axe in both hands, cut off the hellspawn's head. The corpse instantly burst into flames and vanished.

The battle was over and we'd won.

A cheer rose up from every human and gargish throat, whether on the field or in the fort. It grew to a mighty crescendo and I pulled off my helm, giving in and joining the celebration, letting the feel and sound of victory run its course.

It was a small triumph, but the effect on the morale of the people would be huge.

"So the big crunch is still coming, eh?" I commented to a grinning, unscathed Dupre.

"Looks like it, Elora. But look at these people!"

"I know!" I suddenly felt a tremendous jubilation. "They'd be willing to attack three times that number now. The taste of victory has a strange effect on some people-"

Dupre laughed loudly. "Care to continue this conversation over a jug of dark ale?"

"-but not everyone," I added, rolling my eyes.

The knight just shook his head and grinned. "Thou mightest not get thirsty, but I was _born _thirsty."

"I bet your mother raised you on ale," I quipped, wiping my axe-blade clean on a dead soldier's cloak. My eye was caught by the sight of people running from the fort gates, most faces among them grim. Healers, I realised. A few mages and their assistants came with them, hurrying to aid the wounded as best they could. Our dead would be carried inside to a place where Lord British would decide whether or not to use our precious reagent stores for Resurrections.

My mood darkened a little, though most of those who had fought with me today continued to cheer. Looking around quickly, I decided that few of our own could have been killed. The ground was covered with the dark gold tabards of Killorn Keep and the number of Britannians left standing had barely changed.

Warriors started picking their way past discarded weapons to the sanctuary of the fort. Enemy armour, weapons and clothes would all be salvaged, as well as the two ships. By ridding ourselves of two hundred foes, we'd greatly increased our own stores.

I watched two healers lift the still body of a human warrior and start slowly back to the fort. No matter what we'd gained, the price was still too high.

_And I used my powers in battle without hesitation. Virtues...what am I becoming_?

From the northern peaks, the dragon fixed me with her fire-eyed gaze.

_A liche._

Virtues preserve me..

. To be continued in Book Three of 

__

The Black Ankh…


	5. Interlude

The Black Ankh __

Interlude

Mellorin allowed herself a slight smile. So Elora wanted to fight, did she? Good. "I'd have hated to have gone to all this trouble only to find it completely unnecessary," she murmured, her smile widening as she watched her double begin her return to the fort on the Isle of Fire with her battle-weary friends. "Friends," she whispered, her lip curling into a sneer and her green eyes narrowing. "You'll have none by the end of this, Elora. They will be mine, alive or dead." She sent her magical Viewing spell up to the battlements of the fort where stood the leather-armoured, sword-bearing King of Britannia. "Including you..._my Lord_."

Lord British turned his blue eyes skyward as if he'd heard a familiar voice call him, a small frown creasing his brow. Beside him, Iolo the bard stood smiling in satisfaction at the Britannians' victory over the small force that had assaulted the fort.

"Hello, Richard," Mellorin whispered out loud, ghost-like, grinning.

His frown deepened and one hand reached out to touch Iolo's arm. As the king's mouth spoke words inaudible to Mellorin's spell, the bard's smile faded and he glanced around warily, crossbow held ready.

Mellorin laughed softly. "Don't worry, dear friend. Your time will come."

He gave no indication that he had heard, so she returned to her contemplation of Elora. The undead Avatar stood on the field, no expression on her face but worry in her eyes.

"_Virtues...what am I becoming_?"

What a time for her to start projecting her thoughts...it was the perfect opening and Mellorin needed no urging to deepen her double's growing self-loathing.

"_A liche._"

Her jaw tightened slightly and a shudder seemed to go through her. "_Virtues preserve me_..."

Mellorin smiled darkly and drew back, never relinquishing the look of pain in Elora's eyes as she withdrew to a safe distance from which she could gloat without being mistakenly overheard. All of a sudden there was a shattering, mental roar in her mind, and her body back in the Deep Forest instinctively tried to cover her ears. Her control over her View spell slipped, then broke as an abrupt, frightening image of a scarlet visage with sharp teeth and eyes of flame seemed to fly straight into her face, fire spewing from its maw.

Snapping back to herself, she quickly forced her mind back to calmness. It hadn't been the Guardian, as she'd initially thought...a dragon?

"Elora?"

Mellorin turned in response to the name. "Yes? Mariah. Did you find him?"

The red-haired mage sighed. "No. Should I keep looking?"

"Get a few hours sleep, first. You've been searching non-stop since you got here."

She nodded and touched one hand to her eyes. "Some sleep would be welcome, but art thou sure we can spare it? If thy double is looking for Shamino as well- "

"I don't think she is, yet - I haven't felt her teleport. Have you?"

"No." She covered her mouth and yawned.

"Get some sleep. I'll scry the western Deep Forest, for now."

Mariah suddenly seemed _much _more awake. "But...that will leave the eastern side unwatched!" she protested. "I'll keep on in the west," she went on before Mellorin could do anything more than frown, "and thou stayest east. We'll find him."

_Probably not_, Mellorin thought to herself, grinning as Mariah turned away and started back to where Tseramed and Sentri were building a campfire. _Even if we did, we wouldn't tell _me_ about it, would we_? She followed Mariah to the camp. "We won't stay here much longer," she told her three companions softly, crouching near the fire to warm her hands. "It's been too long and there is much to do. We can't let Britannia suffer at the hands of the invaders for the sake of finding one person." She lowered her eyes. "Even if it _is _a good friend."

Tseramed nodded, but Sentri asked, "Wouldst thou leave him to Mellorin's mercy?"

"If he's hiding in the Deep Forest - which I still think he is - then I don't think she'll find him. If _we _couldn't, being his friends, then _she _won't stand a chance."

Mariah let out a deep breath and sat down on a flat rock. "Where and when will we go?"

"I haven't decided yet...I'm not exactly sure, but I'll let you know when I do. What's that, Tseramed?" she added, inclining her head at the chunks of meat the archer was spearing onto several long sticks.

"Venison." He stuck one of the sticks in the ground so the meat hung above the fire. "I brought down a stag earlier today."

"Nice work."

Later, when night fell, the men kept watch and Mariah scried the western side of the Deep Forest, Mellorin sent her sight out to the seas around Jhelom. Upon reaching the Atarkan fleet waiting to sweep the Valorian Isles clean, she located the commanding officer - a daemon - and sent the message to attack. "_Take as many prisoners as you can, Commander,_" she reminded him, her thought-voice threatening. "_Corpses are of no use to me - yet_."

"_Yes, _Ka-thra!"

She waited a minute to watch the ships raise anchor, then returned to her body.

Someone was waiting for her when she got there.

"_So...where _are _you going next_?"

"_Why don't you leech my thoughts and find out for yourself_?"

There was an ominous silence.

"_Sorry_," she thought grudgingly. "_I'm tired. I don't have Elora's advantages._"

The wind rustled the thick canopy overhead.

"_I was actually thinking of leaving these three here for the night while I go look for Jaana in Trinsic. It's about time we move on to destroying the Shrines, don't you agree?_ _I wanted to start with Spirituality - I thought that might be nicely symbolic, in some way - but I have a better plan for Shamino. He'll have to come last._"

"_The druidess knows of you. She won't go willingly_."

Mellorin shrugged. "_So? If I plan to kill her as soon as I get her out of Trinsic, that doesn't matter._"

"_Don't forget the rest of the ritual in your haste to destroy your once-time friends, Mellorin_."

"_I won't_..."

"_And don't forget your priorities, either. Your task is to get British._ _The Shrines are unnecessary._"

Mellorin sighed. "_As you wish. In two days, Serpent's Hold will be attacked again. When Elora goes to the rescue I'll use the Blacksword to get to the Isle of Fire, grab His Majesty, then take him to the Isle of the Avatar, as you specified._"

"_If Elora is searching for her friend tomorrow, why not take him then_?"

"_Because,_" she explained patiently, trying to placate the anger she was hearing, "_tomorrow I plan to kill Mariah and, if time allows, Geoffrey. I really wish the ritual didn't take so long, but it _is _practise for Richard_."

"_You are leaving a _lot _to chance, Mellorin,_" was the disapproving reply_. _"_What if the Avatar takes British to Serpent's Hold with her_?"

Mellorin sighed. "_Does it _really _matter where I kill him_?"

"_Do I _really _need to answer that again_?"

She winced. "_No...please don't._ _I understand._"

"_He had better not escape. Now go_, _and mask your teleporting like I taught you_."

"_Yes, Master_."


	6. Lifestealer

****

Book Three of The Black Ankh 

By Shadow of Light Dragon, aka Laura Campbell

__

I will come

Like a thief in the night,

Like a stalker of shadows,

Unexpected, unheard of and unseen.

I will take

That which is yours,

Your breath, your mind, your life,

And vanish, that you think me a dream.

I will steal

Those dear to you,

Your people, your family, your friends,

And I will cherish your scream.

I will live

Your life for you

And you will fade away forever,

As if you'd never been.

***

I've never really been successful at keeping a regular journal since my last ones were published. Maybe now because I only need to put things in perspective.

Well, there's one thing to put in perspective right there. Life. I don't have _one. It was stolen by my 'New Self', a being who is me in every sense except state of mind. Even that difference may not be long-lasting. With the awakening of my undead powers, I feel as if my humanity is starting to slip away._

There was a battle yesterday. Our people fought two hundred foes and won. I fought with them, with both weapon and magic. I didn't give a damn at the time how the enemy were killed. If they're dead in the end, what does it matter? I can't tell whether or not if using any offensive spell other than an outright Death Bolt is good. Am I more the monster for dealing out slow deaths?

I can't stop myself using magic. Even now, an illusion hides what's slowly happening to my body. An illusion hides the fact that I have no eyes and that I'm...decomposing. Magic is my lifeblood. I can stop it flowing through my veins no more than I can make my heart start beating again. But I must try restraint. I must control my thoughts, for they _dictate the magic._

Other things press on my mind. Before I travel to Atarka to find more information on the aeth'raesh'al_ bracer, I must find Shamino. Mariah discovered his location with her magic and sent word to Richard early this morning. She was unable to communicate with Shamino but saw enough. How he managed to get the Emps to leave their Silverwood trees, I've no idea, but he's sheltering with them in the Bee Cave near Tseramed's hut, south-west of Empath Abbey. I can only guess that the Emps use their empathic abilities to calm the giant bees, else how would they survive? I rather doubt Shamino would have been able to talk them out of eating the bees' honey._

Other than this, Mariah had little news. She attempts to keep my double, Mellorin, busy in the Deep Forest by reserving the western side as her own scrying area. As long as Mellorin keeps her magic in the east, she won't find Shamino.

Sentri and Tseramed are well, she thinks, but she hasn't been able to speak with them out of Mellorin's hearing. I hope they're careful.

There is more news, and it's bad. Jhelom has fallen to the enemy. The only city we have left is Trinsic, and of the keeps, the Lycaeum and Serpent's Hold. Even now, the mages on the Isle of Fire are planning to build teleport pads for the latter, which I'll be able to transport with my bracer.

Nystul has nothing to report from Castle Britannia, and has been informed of the situation with Mellorin. That should help prevent infiltration.

I myself sent my sight over Stonegate. A horde of undead gather, even as the liche on Ambrosia had said. And on the Isle of the Avatar, I found the enemy mages. They are attempting to destroy the Guardian Statues - to break through the shields protecting the Shrine of the Codex...where the Black Jewel of Mondain rests within the Flame of Infinity.

And a war fleet has set sail from the docks of Minoc and Jhelom. At the best of conditions, we'll be seeing over two thousand men and women invading our islands in about two weeks. Unless the Jhelom ships decide to stop over at the Isle of Deeds and finish off Serpent's Hold first. Mages keep watch even now, so if the worst occurs, I can be contacted, teleport to the Hold and evacuate everyone. We all hope it won't be needful, but I think it will be. The thing is, the bracer isn't attuned to the Isle of Fire. To get back here, I'll have to talk the dragon - who still chooses to remain nameless - into carrying us.

Maybe I should just call her 'Draco', or something. For all I know, she might have seen the movie.

I've just realised I'll have to burn this entry when I finish. It wouldn't do for Mellorin to discover where Shamino is. I'll use the candle, though. No magic.

With that, I'll close. It's time to go.

--Elora, Avatar of Britannia

***

"I don't need a sword," the dragon-in-human-form was telling Dupre. "I'm a dragon! Believe me, I don't need that metal toothpick to defend myself."

Dupre looked slightly offended as he turned to put away the shortsword he'd offered.

"You don't really have to fight with it," I told her, giving the blue sky above an approving glance. "You'll just look more convincing as a warrior if you have a weapon."

"I don't need- " she began, then broke off with a cry of surprise as Dupre spun, kicking her legs out from under her and landing her flat on her back. Lying on the stone roof of the fort, she stared open-mouthed at the blade Dupre was holding a hair's breadth from her neck for a moment, then her brows rushed together into an angry frown.

I prudently took a step back.

Dupre's breath exploded from his lungs in a loud "Oof!" and the knight flew backwards. He did it very well, for someone without wings. When he sped over the edge of the battlements, he hung there in midair as the dragon prevented his fall.

"Are you ok?" I shouted to him.

He made a strangling noise. Seemed like he hadn't regained his breath as yet.

"Was that really necessary?" I asked the dragon.

She stood, tossed her red-gold hair and picked up the shortsword. "_Nobody _threatens me. Not even when they're trying to make a point."

"Well, I think you've made _yours_."

A gasp came from Dupre's direction as he realised his current location, some twenty or so feet above ground level.

I went over, climbed up into one of the crenels and grabbed the hand Dupre held out to pull him down. Once his feet were safely on the ground, he braced himself against my shoulder until he'd steadied himself.

"Are you scared of heights?" I asked him curiously.

"Why dost thou think I always kept mine eyes closed when thou wert flying that damned magic carpet?"

The dragon-woman's eyes lit up at this piece of information. "I'd like to offer my services as a mode of transportation to you, Avatar," she announced graciously. "As a way of thanking you for promising to take me home, of course."

Dupre gave her a hard look, which she returned with transparent innocence.

"Are you sure the bracer can take us there?" I asked. "To this Atarka?"

"Of course I am." She shrugged. "Maybe it's easier for me to feel how that thing works," she added, meaning the bracer. "Gemstones are largely used for magical practises on my world." She indicated the coloured jewels on the bracer, the ones not touching the large, central stone. "These gems are used to take you between the planes or worlds." Then the ones touching the central stone, a different coloured one to each of its eight side facets. "These gems are used for teleportation _within _a plane."

"So which of the..._world _jewels will take us to Atarka?"

"The orange one - the _shem'al_."

"_Shem'al_?"

"Sand Jewel, is your translation."

"Oh. I thought it was amber."

"Speaking of Amber," Dupre said, "we'd best start searching for her man."

I nodded. "Iolo and Katrina are down below?"

"Aye. With Lords British and Draxinusom."

The dragon-woman handed Dupre back his sword. "Let's hurry along, then. The sooner we find your friend, the sooner we can leave Britannia."

"How could you tell which jewel leads to your home?" I asked her as the three of us went downstairs.

"I'm not precisely sure. I just looked at it and...I knew. There's a strong sense of 'home' when I concentrate on it." She shrugged.

"Maybe one of them leads to my home," I said softly, half-daring to hope it were true. Would I return to there if it were possible?

"Only you can tell, Avatar," the dragon said. "It's your home, not mine."

I gave the bracer a long look, watched how the light glinted off the multi-faceted jewels and caused the milky, moonstone-like substance forming the main body of the bracer to glow. In turn, I glanced at each of the small jewels, not knowing what I was trying to feel. Only two of them made me pause. The emerald - but probably just because I had a thing for green - and the diamond. Every conceivable colour winked back from within its complex structure and I so lost myself regarding its beauty that I almost tripped when we reached the bottom of the stairs.

"Anything?" the dragon murmured.

"I don't know. The diamond, maybe?"

She shook her head. "Can't be - that's Britannia. It's easy to tell since we're here. The tuning of the gem and this world are the same."

_Maybe Britannia _is _my home_, I thought to myself, but I resigned myself to pondering that at a later time. We'd reached the place where Iolo, Katrina and Britannia's two Lords were waiting.

"Good fortune to thee, Avatar," Lord British said, his voice slightly louder as he spoke over the noises of the nearby forge. "The Virtues guide thee and bring thee back to us!"

I smiled and clasped his hand briefly. "Thank thee, my Lord. I'll certainly do my best to come back in one piece."

"To bid you good fortune, Avatar," Draxinusom added in gargish. He awkwardly held out one of his red hands and I took it in my own. "To hope you find your friend."

"To thank you, _prilem_." I turned to my four companions. "Ready your weapons, friends. We don't know what's on the other side." Then I touched the facet of the central jewel that was edged by the emerald.

***

The world abruptly came into focus. We were standing just outside the Shrine of Justice and no one was in sight. The sky was clouded and the iron-grey waves of the sea to the north, east and west could be heard crashing against the bases of the rocky cliffs. The ground was wet, as though it had been raining, and there was an unpleasant squelching noise as Dupre and the dragon moved out a little to look for any nearby enemies.

"So we try to cut straight through the forest?" Katrina asked me.

I looked south to where the cape widened to join the mainland and the Deep Forest began. Under the sunless sky, the trees looked dark and forbidding. "Yes. Even though we'll be Blinking across it, I don't need to remind you to keep a lookout for soldiers. Those tabards should be easy to spot." My eyes drifted to the shrine and something strange caught my attention. The monoliths surrounding the altar were rough and pitted. I knew there were strong magics on the shrines to prevent damage from wind and weather.

Iolo ran his hands lightly down one of the pillars. Black, gritty stone crumbled off it at his touch. "This should not be," he said, dusting off his hands. He took a step back and looked up, his brow furrowing.

"Something to do with the Flames?" Katrina suggested.

The bard shrugged. "I don't know. Elora?"

"I'm not going to make any guesses," I said, approaching the altar. That it needed to be repaired was not in doubt, but the others knew as well as I did that it would take too long. There was more to it than just shouting out a Word of Power. 

There was a large split down the middle of the pedestal...almost as if someone had thrust a sword into it. At first glance it seemed the fissure had gathered rainwater, but when I brushed a finger over its top, it came back crimson. "Blood," I whispered.

Iolo and Katrina came closer to see. "I don't like this one bit," the former said.

"Do the druids practise animal sacrifices?" Katrina ventured.

"Not that I've heard," I replied, raising my hand to smell and then taste the blood. I spat. "Besides, this isn't just animal blood." I looked at them both, concerned. "It's human."

Their eyes widened.

"There's something else here that I can't place. A...presence?"

"A ghost?" Iolo suggested.

"No...sort of." I let out a low growl. "I think I'd be able to sense it if I were _alive_. I don't know."

"Dost thou want to do something about it now, or should we find Shamino first?"

"Shamino," Katrina said.

I nodded slowly. "I have a bad feeling...Blackthorn once found a way to destroy the shrines. It's said that all he needed was the mantras, but I think that was only one component. Maybe he needed a sacrifice. He also needed power - or an item with destructive capabilities."

"The Sword of Chaos," Dupre said as he returned. "And Mellorin hath the Blacksword, not to mention power. Thou knowest, that reminds me," he added as we all struck south, "I think the one cinching point that made me reject all the Guardian's offers while we were trapped in the Castle was something he said to me before we went after the Chaos Sword."

"Was that when thou wert drinking?" Iolo asked him. "After Spark died?"

He nodded. "He said something like, 'Knowest thou to where thy precious Avatar will lead thee? To thy Doom. Doom, Death and Chaos.'" He grinned. "And I'm still alive and kicking."

The dragon-woman snorted. "Your kicking could stand a little improvement..."

I didn't hear the rest. Dupre's words had suddenly pushed my mind back to remember a vision I'd seen in an orb on another world. An orb that had shown the future...and had predicted Dupre's death.

_The future isn't decided_, I thought stubbornly. _We make it what it is, and I won't make it that_.

"...was saying things about Gwenno in a frozen wasteland," Iolo was saying. "I hope she's all right."

"One thing I've learned about the Guardian," the dragon said, "is that he rarely lies. He has no need to. The truth can be much more destructive and much more satisfying."

There was a frigid silence.

"Thanks for your comforting input," I said dryly.

"It's an important thing to know, _Avatar_. If you could understand how he thinks, you'd know what he's thinking."

"Are you saying you do?"

A strange light lit her golden eyes. "Perhaps."

Katrina silenced us. "Look," she said, pointing toward the treeline. "I mark four...five soldiers."

I looked and nodded. "Good job. Iolo?"

The bard raised his crossbow. "Thou canst wave two of them goodbye." He fired, rewound his weapon with impressive speed, fired again.

"Not bad for a human," the dragon said. "You might want to do something about the other three coming our way."

Iolo grinned and patiently set to work reloading his crossbow. "That's _their_ job."

Dupre, Katrina and I charged forward to meet the attackers.

"Take one alive," I shouted, then ducked under a sweeping blade and smashed the blunt end of my axe-head across the soldier's knee.

"Which one?" Dupre asked, parrying a swordthrust.

"What do you mean, 'which one'? _Any _one!"

The knight laughed, which seemed to offend his opponent for some reason. "Well, thine doth not look overly intelligent, Elora."

"Looks can be deceiving," Katrina observed wickedly. "One hath but to look at _thee_, Sir Knight, and- "

"_What_?" Dupre spluttered. Deftly, he cracked his swordhilt against his opponent's skull then turned to blister Katrina's ears with his tongue.

I was laughing so hard I almost got skewered. "Oh, stop it," I told the soldier. "See this bracer?"

His eyes bulged in horror.

"Yes, that's right. I'm the _Ka-thra_."

Katrina's adversary spun around at this then fell as she broke his neck with her staff. Katrina herself knelt down to check his pulse.

"_Human fool_!" The fallen soldier grabbed at her arm, twisting it as he jumped up and snarled at the glowering Dupre. "Keep thy distance, ape-man, or she dies." He closed his other hand around her throat, a hand that suddenly bore crimson skin and long, yellowed nails.

The soldier I was facing stared at his companion with a look of horror, then narrowed his eyes and spat.

The daemon-soldier smirked as it slowly regained its true form and said something in a sneering voice. Then it turned its fiery eyes on me. "The Guardian will reward me for bringing thee to him." It leered at Katrina, bringing its fangs close to one of her ears. "Do I need to make an example of this one for thee to come quietly?"

I stalled, quickly evaluating what our chances were. The daemon was facing me and had Katrina in front of it, so anything I tried to throw at him would likely hit _her_. Iolo stood behind with his crossbow at the ready, but I knew he wouldn't fire. The force of a crossbow bolt would drive right through the daemon's body, killing both it and Katrina. Dupre was on its left with his sword drawn, the Killorn soldier on its right, his eyes burning with anger. "What does the Guardian want with me?"

"Wilt thou come?" the daemon shouted, drool flying from its fangs and its claw tightening on Katrina's neck.

The human soldier suddenly leaped forward and ran at the daemon with his sword, but the undead willed forth a wall of fire without even turning its head. The soldier plunged straight into it and dropped to the wet ground, screaming.

A shimmering began in the air above the daemon and its captive. Quickly, it took the form of the red-scaled dragon. Her two massive foreclaws were planted on either side of the daemon and her neck arched down and around so that her burning eyes were level with its. Baring her gleaming fangs, she rumbled, "Hellfire is _nothing _compared with what I'm going to do to you."

And, of course, the daemon made its last mistake by dropping Katrina and letting her get away.

Turning my head away from the gruesome little bonfire that had suddenly sprung up between the dragon's foreclaws, I ran over to where Katrina stood catching her breath and asked if she was ok.

"My neck feels burnt," she said, wincing slightly.

"Let me see." She lifted her chin and I examined her throat, seeing she was right. It wasn't bad - the worst she'd suffer would be peeling skin - but I could see the reddish tint on her neck was taking on the shape of a hand. "Nothing worse than a sunburn, I'm thinking."

She looked relieved. "I didn't expect him to jump at me like that."

"It's ok. I should have checked them to see if they were human."

"Katrina! Art thou all right?" Dupre asked as he hurried over.

She nodded. "I'm recovering."

"Where's that other soldier?" I asked, glancing beyond the dragon. "Wait, I see him. Coming?"

The three of us circled the dragon and her smouldering prey to her other side. The soldier I'd originally fought was writhing on the marshy ground, most of his body blackened and smoking. Only a glance was needed for me to know he wouldn't be alive much longer.

"What about your soldier?" I asked Dupre.

"Dead," the knight replied. "I hit him too hard."

I nodded and frowned. "Well, let's see if this one can tell us anything." Kneeling beside the burnt soldier, I made sure he could see me before asking, "What happened at that Shrine to the north?"

The soldier groaned once, then took a deep breath and babbled something incomprehensible.

"Can't he speak?" Iolo asked, as he approached with his crossbow slung over one shoulder. 

"Look." Katrina pointed at the man's blistered right hand. The palm bore what appeared to be a crescent moon symbol, the lines standing out in bright red. "What's this mean?"

"_Marini_." The dragon snorted disdainfully from above us. "These weren't even warriors. They're probably just being used as lookouts so the capable fighters don't have to be wasted, and the daemon used as a means of communication." She rolled over the corpse of Dupre's soldier with a foreclaw and craned her neck down to peer at the hands. "This one has the same mark. These are priests from the Temple of Silence."

"Doth _'marini' _mean priests?" asked Iolo.

"'_Marini_' means 'worshippers'. These particular people are akin to druids; given to meditation and not much fighting, though a large group of them can be a death-sentence. They are relentless, given a cause."

"_Canst thou understand me_?" I telepathed to the wounded soldier.

"Ka-thra!" his mind screamed. Eyes widening, he clapped his hands to his ears.

"_What happened at the Shrine_?"

His eyes suddenly glazed over and he sat without moving. The dragon looked as if she'd expected nothing less. With a muttered, "_Marini_," under her breath, she lashed her tail impatiently. "Trance. Kill him and let's go."

"We can't really kill a defenceless man," Dupre told her.

"_Kemah-thra_! Why not? You're not against violence!"

"This is different. It's not- "

"Virtuous?" she sneered through bared fangs.

The knight sheathed his sword.

"Humans!" She shook her huge head. "You have such strange concepts. Killing is killing, on the field or off. How can one way be better than another? The result is the same."

"We can't leave him here to waylay our own people," Katrina noted. "Or to get eaten."

"I certainly hope you're not intending to take him with us."

I probed gently at the soldier's mind and found it completely blank - wiped clear of thought. There was, however, a section that was still conscious. "_Knowest thou who I am_?" I asked.

The reply was much calmer than the first response I'd received from him. "_Thou art the one known as the Avatar_."

"_And the _Ka-thra?"

"_There is only one _Ka-thra_, and thou art not her._"

"_How canst thou be so sure_?"

"_She beareth the daemon sword. Thou dost not._"

"_Then why didst thou call me _Ka-thra_ just before_?"

"_An error,_" he replied simply. "_I saw the bracer and made an assumption._"

"_We're getting somewhere, it seems. Now, tell me what happened at the Shine of Justice._"

There was a silent stream of laughter. "_No_. _And don't bother threatening me with death, Avatar. I'm not afraid._"

"_I've no need to threaten. Thou art already dying_."

There was a mental sigh. "_I suspected as much. And by daemon-magic_..."

"_The daemon is dead_."

"_Both of them_?"

I stopped short.

"_What of the large one with the wings of gold and voice like thunder_?"

"_That...was a dragon_."

A hand shook my shoulder. "Elora? Elora, he's dead. He's stopped breathing."

I withdrew from his mind and looked around at my friends. "I didn't get anything out of him." Standing, I looked up at the dragon. "Except that he thought you were a daemon."

Her form shone and reduced in size, changing shape until she looked human again. Giving each companion a long look, she finally said to me, "He's probably never seen a dragon before. If there aren't any left on my world, then..." With a shrug, she added, "Can we go? Or were you intending to bury him as well?"

"Wait just a minute. Who exactly _are _these people?"

"The Silent Ones." The dragon paused then sighed. "Their philosophy of hearing an 'Inner Voice' was just catching on before the invasion of my world." Iolo, Dupre and Katrina had already heard her history, so they knew what she meant. "If it hadn't involved cutting out your own tongue, I might have been willing to listen."

"Inner Voice?" Iolo repeated as we started walking again. "Thou meanest the Guardian?"

The dragon sighed again, her eyes becoming somewhat distant. "It became the Guardian later. Earlier, before my time, the Silent Ones were but a group of simple people who meditated and communed with the _aeth'er'eal_."

"The Ethereal Void?"

"The same. The 'Mind of Stars', my people called it. The correct term was actually _aeth'o'eali_, but it changed with the passage of time and growth of languages." She smiled at her own memories. "Anyway, Silence became the issue when the supposed voice of the _aeth'er'eal_ spoke back to them, basically telling them to shut up, listen and obey."

"That's terrible," I said.

"Yes. And terribly clever. The druids had waited their entire existences for a reply. _Any _reply. And the Guardian gave them one."

We had reached the border of the Deep Forest. The two soldiers Iolo had shot lay dead nearby, crimson staining their orange-gold tabards. When we checked their hands we found the same markings on the right palms.

"What does it mean that they're in the army?" I asked.

"Mean? Nothing other than that the Guardian ordered them to come! He probably stripped my entire world bare to take Britannia. What is it he wants here?" She was looking straight at me as she asked this, and for some reason I got the impression that she already knew.

"Thou supposedly knowest what he's thinking," Dupre put in. "Thou shouldst be able to figure it out."

"You don't like me, do you?"

"'Tis thine attitude that doth make thee unlikable. I _could _get to like thee very much if I could just get over this urge to try and kill thee every time thou openest thy mouth."

"Well said," Katrina murmured.

The dragon smiled coldly then tripped over something. "Blasted two legs!" she snarled, brushing bits of bracken and dead leaves from her leather armour. Suddenly, she frowned. "I think there's something under here."

She got up and moved aside as Dupre and I lifted the long, slender trunk of a freshly fallen tree. Rolling it to one side, the others helped to shift broken branches. Something else _was _there. Something red. And there was the stench of blood.

It was a gargoyle.

"Oh, Virtues," Katrina whispered, her face pale. "Praetymdelem!"

The gargoyle had been torn apart in the ritual Fellowship manner. I'd never seen any guttings of his race before, and it was _much _worse than a human murder because of the wings and horns. The former had been cut to ribbons - each segment between the thin wing-bones sliced with almost surgical precision. The main wing-bones themselves had been ripped out at the shoulders. The two horns on Praetymdelem's head had been gouged out, hanging on to his skull only by two tiny flaps of red flesh. The legs, arms, head, torso turned inside out...

The dragon looked truly shaken. "I've never seen anything like this. What does it mean?"

I didn't hide the revulsion in my reply. "You know how you were telling us of the Guardian's rituals among his worshippers on Atarka? How he had his followers, the Silent Ones, cut out their own tongues? Well _this _is one of the rituals among his followers _here_."

"But...this creature wasn't alive when they... Was it?"

I opened my mouth to say "No," but Katrina answered before I could.

"He was alive." She pointed at Praetymdelem's face. It was contorted into an expression of utmost horror and supreme pain. She shuddered. "I thought thy double said he was dead, Elora."

"She did. Maybe she lied."

"Or maybe she Resurrected him so he'd be alive when she..." Iolo left his sentence unfinished and swallowed hard. "Dost thou think it was his blood we found at the Shrine of Justice?"

"No," Katrina said, "Elora said it was human bl-" She broke off abruptly.

_Shamino_.

"We have to hurry," I said softly. "Or this won't be the last murder."

***

For now, I dropped the restrictions I'd placed on myself concerning magic. Blink was a very handy short-range teleport spell, and I used it to transport our group across the terrain and through the Deep Forest. As had been the case with the spell while I'd been alive, however, I always felt a momentary dizziness after four or five consecutive Blinks, so I'd have to wait a minute each time. When the dragon complained about the delays, Dupre asked her if she'd like to materialise inside a tree. She actually accepted that without talking back.

Then we reached the wisps' tower.

"Should we speak with them?" Iolo asked. "We don't have that whistle..."

"I don't know if I _want _to hear what they've got to say," I replied, sitting down before I fell off the log I'd appeared on. "That's not normal wisp behaviour, is it?" I added, pointing.

Three wisps were speeding toward us from the tower. They were almost incandescently white with no hint of their regular blue colour about them.

I got no further than "Hi," before a bolt of energy knocked me off my seat. Picking my way out of a small bush, I said, "They must think I'm undead!"

"You _are _undead!" the dragon said.

The others had drawn weapons, but the wisps ignored them. Buzzing like three swarms of angry wasps, they hovered above me and let loose a second bolt. It knocked me back a few feet, but did no damage, so I didn't bother raising a shield.

"_Can 'we' speak_?" I telepathed, using the strange emphasis wisps placed on some of their words. "_'I' am entity known as 'Avatar'_. _'I' would like to exchange information_."

"They said to tell you that they don't converse with the undead," the dragon said calmly. "Was there anything you wanted me to ask them?"

Standing still, I stared at the three orbs of pulsing light without blinking. "How do I remove the _aeth'raesh'al_?"

A strange yet clearly audible voice came from one of the wisps. "_'You' can't_." Then the three of them, still buzzing, vanished from sight.

"Where'd they go?" Katrina exclaimed. She looked around. "Did they _all _leave?"

"Were there others?" Iolo asked her.

"I saw a couple near that tower, and a third behind that tree."

"Britannia has become too dangerous for them," the dragon said. "In exchange for an answer, I told them that a new Avatar, spawned by a black _kel'al_, is on the loose. I think they doubt your chances of winning this war."

I said nothing. My mind drifted back to Praetymdelem's body and my only thought was of the promise I'd given Lord British to return in one piece.

***

There was no sight of Mellorin, Mariah, Sentri or Tseramed as we continued to Blink through the forest. I was steadily becoming more proficient in my castings; my range had increased and I'd discovered the 'trick' of giving everyone a gentle landing, since the ground we stood on was always uneven. It took us until nightfall to reach the western edge of the Deep Forest. Considering that to walk the same distance without benefit of a road was likely to take in excess of two, maybe three weeks, we'd made excellent time.

When we arrived at the borderline of trees just east of Iolo's hut we were forced to wait and hide. The bard's face was grim as we watched ten Killorn soldiers help themselves to his stores of grain, wood and food and carry them off.

"I hope Smith got away," he whispered, to which I nodded (as solemnly as was possible with Dupre looking like someone had not only just paid off his bar tabs, but given him his own tavern). There was no sign of his horse.

One thing had become certain. The Guardian wanted Britannia intact. To all reports, not a single building from castle to hovel had been destroyed.

When the patrol had left, we crossed the clearing (Iolo declined to see what state the soldiers had left the inside of his house in. Dupre remarked it couldn't be much worse than the state the bard _himself_ had left it in) and reached the road that led north to Empath Abbey. I could make out the forms of the soldiers marching north in the darkness, but was sure none of them would be able to see us.

"The Bee Caves are on the other side of the road, just through that stand of trees," I whispered to Katrina and the dragon. "There's a log house near it. If you think you're lost, stay there and don't move."

To the others, except maybe the dragon, it would be _very _dark. The sky was still clouded so no moons or stars lent their light to us. Our destination wasn't really _that _far away, but it never hurt to be a little cautious.

Iolo, Katrina and Dupre went first, the latter with his cloak drawn tightly about himself to hide the gleam of his mail shirt. The dragon yawned, then disappeared.

I shook my head slightly. "Invisibility sort of takes the fun out of it, dragon."

There was a disembodied snort followed by a faint rustling of leaves as she brushed past a nearby plant.

I counted to ten, having no wish to run into her by accident, then dashed across the road, almost diving into the plants beyond. Ducking under a branch and jumping a gnarled root, dodging a trunk and leaping a mossy boulder...I stopped only when the dark shape of Tseramed's hut loomed up between the trees.

A voice right beside me made me jump. "So, where are these caves?" The dragon-woman flickered into view.

"Follow me," I muttered, and led her further west where the mountains lay.

It started to rain.

When she and I reached the cave entrance we found the other three were waiting for us there. We entered, and only then did I make a light.

"What? _AARGH_! *snort* Intruders! *whinny* Sound the *neigh* alarm!"

"_Smith_?" Iolo said.

The horse, apparently more startled than we, merely shouted, "Abandon ship!" before snorting, turning tail, then galloping down a passage. A second later there was a muffled _crunch_, followed by an irritated buzzing noise.

"Maybe he broke his neck," Dupre whispered to me. "Then I won't have to get Iolo that drink."

"I heard that!" the bard said, swatting his arm.

"Thou hearest pretty well for an old fossil!"

"Well, well," a new voice interrupted. "It's a wonder ye two got here without being seen. Or, rather, _heard_." A grinning Shamino stepped out from around the corner of the passage Smith had fled down. "Hello, my friends."

Almost involuntarily, I let out a "_whoop_!" and then everyone crowded around him, talking all at once.

Shamino quickly silenced us and said, "Come deeper into the caves. The enemy patrols the road every night and we're close enough to it to be heard if we stay here."

We followed him in, being careful not to disturb the drowsing giant bees in their alcoves of honeycomb. The light played off the golden, hexagonal structures and made them glitter with a strange beauty. Shamino paid them no heed but led us straight down the main passage, my Light spell hovering above him as I walked at his side.

The dragon-woman tapped my shoulder as we walked and I reluctantly fell back to talk with her. "What's up?" I asked softly, not wanting my voice to echo down the hive.

"Is that your friend?" she asked, pointing at Shamino.

"I thought that would have become obvious a few minutes ago."

"Is he?" she pressed, her eyes narrowing.

Her manner gave me pause. "Yes, that's Shamino," I replied slowly. "Why the concern?"

She gave me a hard look before regarding the back of Shamino's head thoughtfully. "Just making sure." Then she kept walking as if nothing had passed between us.

"What was this we heard about the Emps?" Dupre was asking softly.

"When we saw the beginnings of the invasion," Shamino replied, "a large number of soldiers started to comb through the Deep Forest. I took a trip to Empath Abbey to see what was going on and found it totally overrun by men and women who wore uniforms I'd never seen before. I returned to the Silverwood grove where the Emps live and explained to them the danger, convincing them to come here with me. The promise of honey was the only thing I could think of that would make them move." He led us down a branching tunnel. "The Emps had already begun scouting around when I'd left. One went so far as to scale the lower foothills of the Serpent Spine to see Castle Britannia."

"And he saw a blackrock dome?" I asked.

"It was a she, actually. But yes. A dome. I decided to lead the Emps to safety before making any plans to investigate, so I guided them all here and they've been able to keep the bees under control with their empathic powers. Indeed, the bees have protected us in here more than once."

"And Smith?" Iolo asked.

"I let him loose when I went to Empath Abbey and told him to stay nearby for when I returned. It would have been too hard to drag a horse through a forest as thick as the Deep. Then, when I came back with the Emps, I took him in here."

"I can't imagine him wanting to be in a cave," the bard noted, glancing around the cave.

"Yes, well," Shamino replied with a faint smile. "The Emps had a hand in that business. Or should I saw 'paw'?"

We reached the inner cave and found most of the small, ape-like Emps asleep. A few of their buzzing protectors hovered nearby. Shamino motioned for us to sit, then looked at me.

"What's happening in Britannia?"

I related the whole story, starting from the invitation to the banquet at Lord British's Castle. Iolo and Dupre chimed in if I forgot anything, but otherwise stayed silent. It was late into the night by the time I'd finished.

Shamino was quiet for a time, then nodded. "Mariah told me to expect thee, but she didn't get around to telling me what was going on...other than to be careful if I see one who looks like thee. How do I know that thou art the real Avatar?"

Iolo, Dupre and Katrina exchanged glances and said nothing.

"I can't prove it," I told him. "I can only show you this-" I flicked a finger at the Ankh, noticing a faint glimmer of apprehension in his eyes as I did so, "-and let you decide."

"Thou art undead?" he asked.

I hesitated, then allowed the illusion around me to slip away. Immediately, the cave was filled with the green radiance shining from my eyes. I kept control of my sight, however. I only wanted to see my friends as my friends - not as formless blobs of colour.

Shamino wasn't the only one to look startled. Aside from the dragon, no one had seen what transformations were occurring or had already occurred. Feeling self-conscious, I erected the illusion again and held out my arm for Shamino to try and find my pulse. "Convinced?"

He nodded. "I believe thee." He glanced at the companions. "And them."

"What do we do now?" Iolo asked. "Return to the Isle of Fire?"

"The Emps will be safe enough here," Shamino said. "As will be Smith. I think he's actually grown fond of them. Fond enough to let them _ride_ him."

"Ride?" Iolo echoed, amazed. "_Ride_? _Smith_?"

Shamino nodded.

The dragon, whom I'd introduced during my narration, said, "It would be safer if I flew you back now. Not as many people will see us by night."

Shamino gave her a sceptical look. "Thou art _really _a dragon?"

She returned his look with thinly-veiled irritation. "What do I _look_ like?"

"A...uh...human."

"Look closer, Ranger."

He gave her a confused look, then quickly turned to me. "I'll tell the Emps I'm leaving." Standing, he crept over to where the creatures slept.

"What was all _that _about?" Dupre asked the dragon.

"Look at me," she commanded. "Do I look like a dragon to you?"

"In all honesty, I'd have to say no." 

"You humans...always looking with your eyes instead of your mind. It's pointless asking you anything."

Dupre shook his head and let that pass. "Wilt thou be all right carrying five of us?"

Before she could answer, two humans entered the cave. They were both dressed in the garb of rangers and they both drew their weapons at the sight of us.

"Where is Lord Shamino?" the woman demanded.

"I'm right here, Kylanne," Shamino said. He quickly introduced us.

The two rangers looked awed and quickly put away their hunting knives. "The Avatar? Truly?"

Shamino nodded. "I'll be going with her."

"Going?" Kylanne exclaimed. "Can't we come?"

I looked at the dragon. "Can you carry two more?"

"Not all the way," she said. "We'll have to stop somewhere so I can rest. There's nowhere safe between here and the Isle of Fire except Castle Britannia… or we could go west."

"West?" Katrina exclaimed. "There's nothing that way but the edge of the world!"

The dragon looked irritated. "There's the Void." She seemed to take hold of her annoyance with an effort. "I suppose you can't be expected to know, since Britannia dragons don't have the talent. I can fly through the Ethereal Void."

"How will that help?" I asked.

"Since our destination is still on this world, it will be almost instantaneous. I can transport us from the western edge of Britannia to the east."

"The Lycaeum," Iolo said suddenly.

The rangers put down the berries and nuts they'd been collecting then the man, who introduced himself as Yavin, said, "Transport?"

The companions all looked at the dragon, who smiled and gave a mocking bow. With a gesture toward the corridor, she said, "Shall we?"

***

"It would be safer if you cast 'Mass Invisibility'," the dragon shouted to me. She set her head against the gale-force wind and driving rain, wings beating steadily. "Or at least get someone at the Lycaeum to do it."

"_I'll do it_," I telepathed. "_Just tell me when_." We'd discovered the futility of trying to yell over the storm. 'We' meaning the humans. Keeping a grip on one of the dragon's spines, I turned slightly and told the others what I was going to do.

The transition across the Void had been completely unspectacular. It might have gone unnoticed had it not been for the change of the weather and a brief, barely felt chill.

I made a mental note to speak further to the dragon about her strange talent at some stage.

We were now flying low enough to see the grey waves below us. The frothing whitecaps smashed against each other and spray reached out like claws that glittered when lightning struck. I was finding the lack of sensation when rain lashed my face disconcerting. The instinct to blink to protect my eyes had gone. On top of that, I could see our surroundings quite clearly - as clearly as day, even though it was most definitely night. I didn't know how well the dragon could see, but she said she could see Verity Isle just after I made it out on the edge of the horizon.

"_Hold on_," I thought to the others, and called forth a cloak of Invisibility to cover each of us and the dragon.

When first my hands, then the dragon faded from sight, my eyes widened and I tightened my grip. It was like I was sitting on nothing! If not for the warmth rising from the dragon's body and the feeling of her spines and scales... A glass-bottomed air-ship was about the closest thing I could liken the experience to, but I doubted the dragon would appreciate the comparison. As the island drew nearer, my momentary discomfort faded and became something close to exhilaration. The urge to spread my arms and _fly _was so powerful that I threw back my head, gripped the dragon firmly with my legs, then let my hands go free.

Wind and rain flew between my fingers like fine skeins of silk. Lightning split the air beside us close enough for me to touch. Thunder exploded overhead and the dragon seemed almost to shudder beneath us in its wake. Salt spray touched my lips as we dropped even lower, the fresh smell of Verity Isle's forest coming with it even through the storm.

Another flash of white fire and I could see the gleam of wet plate mail and swords of the army surrounding the Lycaeum.

"Hold on!" the dragon roared, her voice almost lost amidst a crash of thunder.

I found my invisible handhold and gripped it tightly.

We accelerated, passed straight over the enemy's heads and landed on the flat stone roof of the Keep of Truth.

The six mages on watch all turned in our direction as one and began incanting a spell that would cancel the Invisibility.

Then they froze.

"What..?" I began.

"Hurry it up, Avatar," the dragon growled. "This isn't easy."

"Everyone off," I said. "Carefully. Shamino, you're at the back so you go first."

Invisible, dismounting took a while, but everyone managed and we were soon standing on solid ground again. There was a ripple of ether as the dragon changed her shape.

Remembering the reactions of the mages last time I'd tried mind-speech with them as an undead, I instead spoke aloud. "Listen, mages. We're not here to attack, so don't try anything." I dispelled the Mass Invisibility then telepathed to the dragon, "_Let them go._"

"Avatar!" one of the mages exclaimed. "Lords Shamino and Iolo! Sir Dupre! This is indeed a welcome surprise!"

A couple of the mages looked more wary. "Couldst thou explain how thou didst manage to disable _all_ of us?"

I half-turned to raise a brow at the dragon-woman, who murmured, "Racial talent," then examined a sleeve of the scarlet robe she was now wearing.

"No matter!" The first mage was beaming. "We merely need to tighten our defence. We had not considered the possibility of an attack by air. In any case, welcome, all, to the Lycaeum, Keep of Truth." The grin suddenly fell from his face and he sighed. "If that can still be said."

"What meanest thou?" I asked.

The mage pointed out a closed trapdoor set into the middle of the roof and murmured an Unlock Magic and Dispel Trap incantation. "Get thee out of the rain, Milady. Another can answer for me."

"Thank thee." I motioned to my companions. "Let's go."

Dupre lifted the trapdoor and we went inside the upper level of the Lycaeum.

"By the Serpent!" An elderly mage fell out of her chair and the book she'd been holding dropped to the floor with a rasp of parchment. "_Knock_ next time!"

"Sorry," I said, unable to hide a grin. "Hello, Thanis."

The woman cocked an eye at me. "Well, well. If it isn't Elora! Didst thou manage to evade Mariah?"

I laughed. "Aye, thanks to thee!" Then I explained to the others that Thanis had been one who had helped me during my period of isolation after the events with the Sword of Chaos. "And how is Penumbra?" I asked, helping the old woman to her feet.

"Oh, she's fine. She's busy researching texts in the catacombs on the Praetair Imascus Candier theory." Thanis looked up at Dupre. "Close the trapdoor, young man, and come in where it's dry."

Dupre complied, and the noise of the raging storm was blocked out. The trapdoor glowed briefly. I guessed the wards had been replaced.

We were standing in a large, lamp-lit library. Golden-textured marble walls rose up all around soft white carpets - that seemed to stay clean no matter what touched them - that rested underfoot. Mahogany shelves, desks and chairs abounded, and books were everywhere - some open, some shut, several stacked. Thanis retrieved her book, '101 Ways To Skin a Cat', and put it away on a shelf.

I introduced the others and she looked at me with shrewd, black eyes.

"Thou didst never tell me thou wert the Avatar." She shrugged. "I suppose I would have guessed had I been wearing my spectacles when thou wert standing beside that painting last year."

"Which painting?"

"That one." Thanis indicated an almost life-sized work of me facing Faulinei, Shadowlord of Falsehood, before the Eternal Flame of Truth. A black shard was clenched in my hands above my head in a dramatic pose, and my expression fearless.

"Hey," Dupre said, taking a closer look. "If thou lookest really hard at the background, thou canst make me out!"

Iolo rolled his eyes and muttered something highly uncomplimentary.

Shamino asked if he could borrow '101 Ways To Skin a Cat'.

The dragon tapped me on the shoulder, pointed at the painting and asked, "Who's the guy wearing the black bedsheet?"

***

While my companions slept the rest of the night away, I roamed the Lycaeum in the company of a scholar named Gethsem. Already he'd shown me the empty basin of the Eternal Flame of Truth, and according to what he'd told me of the time it had gone out, the Flame had extinguished itself at the exact time and day of my death at Serpent's Hold. I found the news disturbing; he intriguing.

"Though by all rights," he'd said, "it should have sprung back to life when thou didst."

To which I'd said nothing.

The Lycaeum was more than a library. It was a keep of lore and beauty. Tapestries and paintings abounded. There were statuettes, glass cases with displays ranging from ancient texts to fabulous gemstones, examples of old, magical implements, more. The catacombs were much the same as the upper levels of the keep, though most of the candles and lamps were unlit at this time.

"Here we are," Gethsem said at last. He adjusted the spectacles on the bridge of his hooked nose and squinted at the spines of a row of books. When he selected a thick, leather-bound volume with the faded title, 'Goblins and Gatekeepers', I raised a brow at him.

"It looks like a book of fairytales."

Gethsem's wrinkled face drew into a grin. "No doubt some of it is. Goblins, for example. What on Britannia are _they_?"

"They were around in the days of ancient Sosaria, I believe." And still were (in the sewers, at least), but it was probably better for everyone if the goblins were left undisturbed.

"Oh. Well, anyway, this is the only book I know of that describes what thou'rt looking for. Mordra's 'Artefacts of Darkness' mention the crown, but doth not tell thee anything about it."

"Thank thee, Gethsem."

"Any time, Elora. I'll let thee study that in peace." The old scholar lit a lamp from the candle he carried then left me.

Sitting at a relatively clear table, I opened the book and ran a finger down the table of contents. There was only one section called 'The Crown of the Liche King', so I flipped over to that page.

__

"Before the keep of Stonegate was built, a liche of awesome power had been using all the magic at his disposal to find a way for the undead to cast life spells. His dream was of Britannia to be a kingdom of undead under his command (hence he called himself the Liche King), and to do that, he would have to cast Armageddon (Vas Kal An Mani In Corp Hur Tym). Because of Mani, the spell was classed as a life spell. Therefore he would need life to cast it. He discovered a great repository of power in a small valley deep in a range of mountains, so he called forth a horde of skeletons to dig it up.

"Thus was one of the Magebane swords unearthed. It was found nestled on a tiny island of stone amidst a vast lake of molten lava. Here was a weapon that could disrupt the waves of ether...could it be used to disrupt the waves of life itself?

"The Liche King sealed himself up inside this fiery tomb by blocking the entrance to the diggings with solid stone. He used all his power to ensure that only an undead with life-force would be able to open this gate of stone, meaning that he himself would be locked inside until he discovered a way to have life. He used death to seal the gate, and only life can open it.

"From there, only rumours returned. Some undead claimed that the Liche King spoke to them, saying that he had created a Crown with the aid of examining the Magebane. This Crown would grant its wearer life, enabling them to cast Armageddon or any other life spells.

"The reason why the Liche King himself didn't use the Crown was because of the Magebane. Since he'd wakened it to disrupting life, its presence negated or damped all his efforts to use life magic. He couldn't get rid of the sword, couldn't throw it far enough out into the lava lake for its ether-disrupting effects to leave him undisturbed. The small island of stone had been at a good enough distance, but it had crumbled into the lava scant minutes after the Magebane had been taken from its shores. In his last attempt to be rid of the sword, the Liche King waded out into the lava in order to throw the sword even further away. This resulted in the liche's body being destroyed and his 'life' ended.

"The Crown of the Liche King remained beneath the gate of stone, that only an undead with life could unlock.

"Years later, the keep of Stonegate was built to be the earthly stronghold of the Shadowlords. These spectres were either ignorant or uncaring of the Crown, because they made no effort to gain it. Indeed, they used the lava lake beneath their keep to serve as a trap for the unwary.

"But the Crown was undisturbed. The Magebane, however, surfaced more than two hundred years later. Swamps had taken over the ruins of Stonegate, and water had caused the lava to harden. Before that, however, there were extreme earthquakes and geysers, which lifted up the blade and literally spat it out onto the surface of the world.

"The Crown, though, remains locked beneath the stone gate."

"Stonegate," I whispered. "By the Virtues..." Then I remembered the prophecy I'd learned on Ambrosia. _'Life at their chest'_? Frowning, I touched the Ankh amulet hanging around my neck and stared pensively into the lamplight until dawn.

***

"It's time to go."

I looked at the dragon-in-human-form. Not only could she change her shape, she could change her garb. Right now she wore a concealing robe of vivid scarlet with golden runes embroidered around the hems. An ornate belt of the same colours encircled her waist. "Why so soon?"

She looked around the coolly lit catacomb-turned-library. "I'm not sure I like this place. It answers too many questions." She shrugged. "Oh, your knight asked me to tell you something."

I closed my book. "What?"

She looked exasperated. "I said- "

"What did _he _say?" I interrupted.

"Some mage gave him a musty old book, and in it he found something about the nature of the Eternal Flames. Turns out that they maintain the field between something he called the Guardians."

I frowned. "The Guardians are the two statues standing on either side of the road leading to the Shrine of the Codex," I said. I'd done some scrying earlier and had seen little change on the Isle of the Avatar. No one had so much as stepped past the Guardians, let alone into the Shrine, yet all three Flames were out. "Unless that counts the Flames of Infinity and Singularity," I muttered. "This news is intriguing."

"I found it more intriguing that your knight could read."

Sighing, I fixed her with a chiding smile.

"That's better. You've been looking a little too grim of late. Now you look more- " she rolled her eyes, " -human."

"Is that a compliment?"

"I'll let you decide that one."

I stood quickly, something alerting my mind to danger. "You can't kill, can you? Can you protect?"

"That is allowed. Why?"

"The Lycaeum is under attack."

***

"See to the southern wall!" I shouted to the mage over the loud splatter of rain on stone. "I'll handle the east!"

"But alone?" he shouted back, wringing one sleeve of his sopping robe. "Avatar- "

Dupre grabbed his arm and led him away at a half-run to where the other mages were defending the walls against scaling ladders and grapple-hooks. The Lycaeum had no moat so its defences were limited to stone walls and magic.

I waited for ten soldiers to lift their battering ram and begin a charge at the gate before I struck. Lifting one hand, I caused the wind to blow across them from the side.

Several soldiers lost their footing and toppled like felled trees. Those carrying the ram swerved left and bashed ineffectually into a stone wall. I felt an insane urge to laugh when they shook their heads - as if trying to determine how they'd missed a target as wide as a wagon. Then I sent them to sleep.

Twenty more ran forward to retrieve the ram, and another fifty with ladders and ropes rushed toward the wall. Still smiling, I concentrated - and the Keep of Truth was encircled by a ring of scarlet-gold flames five times the height of the average human. Screams of pain, panic and terror filled the air from those attacking the other walls. The stink of burning flesh was quick to assert itself. Looking down into the blaze, I noticed the ram and five Killorn people charring within the flames...a twinge of conscience made me pause. Let them die? _No, they're helpless_. Wake them? _But the pain they'd endure..._ Kill them outright? _Helpless..._

Why was I feeling Compassion for these people? My lips twisted. Angry that I felt like I was sparing pain to those who were supplying it in abundance, I sent five Death Bolts to claim their lives.

_Why not spare them all_?

I killed the other five sleeping by the ram.

_ALL_...

I flung out an eleventh bolt. A twelfth. More. Not even able to see targets through the ring of fire, I summoned a Vortex of pure death and sent it spinning out toward the eastern grounds.

A hand grasped my arm and turned me around. "Elora, what art thou _doing_?" Iolo shouted.

"Defending Britannia!" I retorted, shaking him off.

"This is slaughter!"

"Avatar, there is no Honour or Valour in this!" Dupre added, dashing rain from his eyes.

_Spare them ALL. Defend Britannia from the living_...

"Mass Death," I whispered.

"Virtues, NO!" Dupre seized my shoulders. "Thou art sworn to protect!"

"I'm also sworn to _defend_!" I shouted angrily. "If I kill this army-"

"Thou art not killing them to defend us," Iolo interrupted. "Look at thyself. Thou art enjoying it!"

_ALL_...

"No." I clenched my hands into fists - a gesture both my friends noticed but didn't react to. They knew me. "You're right." I knew better than this - power had never got the best of me. Disengaging myself from Dupre, I turned the Fire Ring into an Energy Field that covered the Lycaeum as the blackrock dome had enclosed Castle Britannia, only you could see through it. And I could see the Death Vortex zigzagging through the fleeing enemy army, leaving a wide trail of corpses as it passed. I leant against a parapet and watched the carnage for a minute, but still I couldn't bring myself to feel Compassion for them. Or remorse for my actions. I hadn't hurt anyone on our side, had I?

"This is all very nice," the dragon said suddenly, indicating the field that protected us from both enemy and storm, "but how are we supposed to leave?"

No one else was talking. The mages stared in awe at the dome, my companions stared at _me_.

"Don't worry about that," I told her. "Wait." I went over to a group of mages. "I have to leave, so I'll transfer control of this field over to you. Since the casting was mine- "

"We need only our energy to sustain it," one of them finished. "No reagents."

"Just be careful," I cautioned. "Some of them are likely to be non-human - daemons - and they'll try to dispel the dome."

"If enough of us work to sustain it, we'll be fine."

It was made easier with use of the telepathy, but I had to be careful not to let them realise I was undead. Whatever I did, it seemed to work. I simply _thought _the basic structure of the spell into their minds. They nodded, concentrated, kept the image steady, and I withdrew from a spell they now maintained.

"Uh, Avatar," one of the mages began. "Thine eyes are...glowing."

I pretended to rub them - hid a shudder as my fingers touched the back of vacant eye sockets. The illusion had slipped so I tightened it, praying the ethereal disturbance this caused would be too small to attract attention. "I must be tired," I said, removing my hands, hoping the mage would pick up on my words instead of my eyes. He did.

"No wonder. I've never seen anyone cast so many-"

"Avatar! We should depart now while the enemy is in confusion!" The dragon-woman - dry despite the rain that had drenched everyone else - strode up to me. "Come on! We've found your ranger. I want to see my home again." She faced the mages and, in a tone only slightly more respectful than the one she used with normal humans, told them to stand back.

"Who art thou to command _us_?" a black-robed man demanded arrogantly.

She stared first at him, then at me, obviously unable to decide how to react. "I'm a dragon! Are you _blind_?"

"Nonsense. I can sense an illusion easily!"

I coughed loudly and covered the lower half of my face to hide a smile.

The mage gave me a suspicious look.

"It's no illusion, Mage," the dragon said. "I'm a shape-shifter."

Leaving the two arguing, I returned to Iolo and Dupre. "Thanks for the help you gave me before, guys," I said softly.

"What was wrong?" Iolo asked.

"Some kind of undead thing, I think. I kept getting the idea that I should defend Britannia against everyone _alive_. Hence the reason I said 'Mass Death'."

"Definitely an undead thing," Dupre agreed. "But I'm sure thou wouldst never have cast something like that when the lives of Britannians were at risk. Thou art too strong to give in so easily."

Iolo gave me a worried look. "Thou wouldst not cast Armageddon, wouldst thou?"

I smiled and shook my head. "There's a bit of relief there, at least. I _can't_ cast that spell because one of the syllables is 'Mani'. An undead can't manipulate life."

"And art thou feeling better now?"

I nodded, then looked around. "Where are Shamino and Katrina?"

"They're looking in to getting a store of reagents for the Isle of Fire. Art thou sure thou'rt all right?"

"I'll live," I said automatically, then winced at the term. "No, really, I'll be fine."

"Seeing thee go into battle like that-"

"You can't see any wounds, can you?" I challenged.

"In thine eyes, Elora," said the bard softly.

Some things illusions couldn't hide. I nodded slowly. "This isn't the first time something like this has happened," I told my two friends. "Remember that liche on Ambrosia? I killed it. While it was still trapped." They glanced at each other. "I didn't feel sorry for it then and I don't now. Not even for _that_." I pointed at the field below the Lycaeum. The Vortex had vanished a few minutes ago, but not its path of destruction. "They're the enemy." I shook my head, frowning in annoyance. "And I keep trying to use that as an excuse!" I exclaimed.

"Is the Guardian doing this?"

"No, he hasn't spoken to me since the morning after I came back to _life_. It's just being undead. Everything started to make sense in a different way." I fumbled for a way to express the feelings I had. "We're trying to stop the enemy, right? What better way than to kill them all? I have the power - I could have done it here like I had at Serpent's Hold. But then it changed. I wasn't killing them to save the Lycaeum...I was killing them just because I _could_." I looked at Iolo. "I wasn't revelling in the slaughter, but in the power."

"But thou hast it under control now?"

"I hope so."

Shamino and Katrina appeared with several bulging bags of sackcloth. Each one was filled with pouches or small boxes of reagents. Inspecting some black pearls, I smiled in satisfaction.

"Excellent. Our spellcasters will be happy to get these."

Dupre said, "If Julia's expedition to Buccaneers' Den was successful enough, we should have arms for over a thousand foot and three hundred ranged. With that and these reagents, it looks like we might finally stand a chance."

"So what are we intending to do when we get to the Isle of Fire?" asked Shamino.

"We're going to the dragon's world," I said. "Since her people made these bracers, we're hoping to find out more about it there. Maybe a way to get it off my arm."

"It's pointless trying to explain anything to your kind!" the dragon stormed, angrily walking over to us. "Are all humans so _Kemah-thra_-damned thick-headed?"

"Not all of them," Katrina murmured.

She shrugged in irritation, then looked at me. "Are you ready to go yet?"

I nodded. "Let's fly."

Dupre looked a little ill at that.

"Get everyone to stand back, Avatar," the dragon said, moving toward the centre of the roof. "I'll turn invisible and shift to my true form, pick all of you up and set you on my back. All you'll have to worry about is making an opening in this protective field."

"What? You can't just Blink through it?" I asked.

She faded from view and I heard her snort. "When you had this field in mind, Avatar, you thought of it so that _nothing _could get through."

"Oh. Ok, I'll handle it."

"Good," her draconic, voice replied. A second later, Dupre gave a startled yelp as he seemed to levitate into the air. "It's just me, Knight," came the dragon's irritable rebuke.

Turning from the spectacle to regard an open-mouthed mage, I arranged for him to get the other mages to open the dome, lowering it to the height of the ramparts. That done, I felt a large claw wrap around my midsection and lift me up.

"Invisibilising your friends is up to you, Avatar," the dragon rumbled.

When I found my seat and steadied myself with the invisible spines, I complied. "_Ready_." 

"_Then hold tight_." Her muscles bunched and a tremendous whoosh of wind signalled the downsweep of her wings. A few mages below us were flattened. As they scrambled to regain their feet, we rose into the sky once more and started west. I felt the field being restored to its original form as we got out of range, and below the keep I could see the demoralised army of the Guardian attempting to regroup - many dragging their own dead to some nearby location.

For now, the Lycaeum was safe.

***

We reached the Isle of Fire around noon. Visible, we glided over the battlements as I asked those on patrol to clear out of the way. The dragon came to a gentle landing and I saw Julia appear at the top of the stairs.

The tinker stared, mouth agape as she watched us dismount. When I waved at her to come over, her expression became one of incredulity.

"It's safe!" I assured her.

She took a cautious step forward and looked at the intimidating - yet completely disinterested - dragon. "Thou art sure?"

"Would I lie?"

"That's an unfair question coming from thee, Avatar!" she accused. "By the Virtues," she breathed, coming forward. "It's not that I doubted Lord British's word, but..."

The dragon folded her wings and - to the surprise of Julia and several others on guard - resumed her human-warrior form.

"Amazing!" Julia said. "Thou canst shape-change?"

The dragon gave Julia a withering look with her golden eyes, then said to me, "At least she didn't ask me if I was _really_ a dragon."

"This is Julia," I replied. "Tinker by trade and a good friend."

"Charmed."

Then someone else caught Julia's attention. "Shamino! 'Tis good to see thou'rt alive!"

As she didn't say something similar to me, I wasn't sure if Lord British had told her what had happened. I decided to keep quiet about it until I could talk to her away from those who didn't need to hear.

"Our lookouts sighted ye a while ago," Julia went on. "Lord British wants to speak to all of us, but-" and here she gave me a grin, "-decided to give ye time to 'freshen up' first."

I rolled my eyes skyward and sighed.

In a more serious tone, the tinker added, "He'll be with Lord Draxinusom in the Test of Courage. He particularly wishes to speak with thee, Elora."

"Me? Why?"

She shrugged.

"Hm. I'll find out soon, I guess. Now, I'm for a bath."

"There are fresh clothes in everyone's rooms," Julia said. "Shamino, thou wilt have to come with me for thine." She looked speculatively at the dragon-woman. "Sorry, I didn't catch thy name."

"That would be because no one mentioned it."

Julia flushed a little, but didn't press the issue. Instead she asked, "Needest thou anything?"

"Now that you mention it, a cow and a sheep or two wouldn't go amiss." Giving me a reproving glance, she went on, "I haven't eaten a full meal since meeting up with _her_. If I'm going to Atarka, I might as well fill up while I have the chance."

Julia stared at her.

"I'll organise it as soon as I change," Katrina offered. "Canst thou wait?"

"I suppose so," the dragon-woman replied, her voice a little ungracious.

"Good. See thee in, say, half an hour?"

The dragon sighed. "Very well. Then I eat and we leave."

"After we talk with Lord British," I put in.

She sighed again and went to lean against the battlements, one hand running absently over the barrel of a cannon.

I hoped it wasn't loaded.

"So," Julia said as she led us to the stairs. "After Lord British, where _are _we going?"

***

"The trade worked exactly as we'd hoped," Lord British said. "We have arms and armour enough to pose at least a small threat now. Once the teleport pads between here and Serpent's Hold are completed, we'll have more - and the support of the knights. Then we can try for Trinsic and the Lycaeum."

"We can't set Trinsic up with a pad first?" Iolo asked.

"They don't have the materials, unfortunately, and they're too heavy for a gargoyle to carry. Even one using venom. We'd need to deliver them over sea and land, or have Elora teleport them."

We were sitting in a circle near one edge of a large cavern - none other than the one in which I'd fought and defeated the dragon Dracothraxus to complete the Test of Courage. All kinds of training equipment could be found here. Practise dummies, targets, balancing beams and some odd structures the winged gargoyles used. It was empty but for us, and I once again wondered why we were talking here.

"Our mages have contacted others of their profession in Trinsic. I myself spoke with Nystul at Castle Britannia. Both places are now aware of the situation with Elora and Mellorin, her double."

Draxinusom, Iolo, Shamino, Dupre, Katrina, Julia and I nodded. I'd found that Julia _had _been told everything - had demanded to know everything when she'd returned to the Isle of Fire. Somehow, word of my death had reached Buccaneers' Den. Julia had told us that many of the pirates were considering to join the enemy - not openly, of course. Avoid enemy ships, sink a few Britannian ones, who'd notice? They'd been waylaying Britannians for centuries.

"Trinsic doth not look likely to last long," the king went on. "Double the number the enemy had at Serpent's Hold. That is how many there are surrounding the City of Honour. They aren't even attacking; they're just waiting. Starving our people out. Sooner or later...unless we find a way to free them, they'll have no choice but to attack or surrender." He gave me a level look. "There are so many foes there that I doubt even _thy _power could take them all out, even as thou art now."

"I'm not certain my power _has _limits," I replied. "Shouldn't I at least try?"

"I wouldn't advise it, Elora. Shouldst thou teleport there, methinks thou wilt arrive just near the Shrine of Honour as thou didst at the Shrine of Justice. That place is under heavy guard."

I shrugged. "I can handle a few soldiers."

"Not just soldiers. Daemons."

"I can handle a few daemons."

"Fifty?"

I paused. "Ah. In that case, maybe not."

He smiled slightly. "Undeath doth not mean invincibility."

"That's right - go ahead and destroy all my fantasies," I said, grinning. Then I became serious again. "Can I add something here? The Shrine of the Codex. It's also under attack - the enemy are trying to break down the field between the Guardians."

"That explains why thou wert asked to protect the Flame of Courage," Julia said. "Dupre mentioned the Flames generate the Guardians' field."

"Yes. All three Flames are down, though. Even Truth."

"Just _what _is so important about this Shrine of the Codex?" the dragon interrupted. With nothing better to do, she'd decided to sit in on our discussions.

"Hast thou heard of the Codex of Ultimate Wisdom?" Lord British asked.

"Yes, of course. My people were quite upset when someone lifted it from the _aeth'er'eal_." She looked at Draxinusom pointedly. "But it's back there now. So?"

"I have two theories," I said. "One: the Guardian wants the Codex. Why not? He wanted the Horn of Praecor Loth. Where is that, by the way?" I asked Lord British.

"Safe, Avatar."

"Ok. So, he can have his cronies perform the same ritual the gargoyles did. They just need the _position_. Naxatilor could only summon the Codex to a particular place, right?"

Draxinusom nodded.

"When I moved it to the Isle of the Avatar, later returning it to the Void, I _changed _that position."

"So thou thinkest the Codex can only be summoned to where it last was?" Iolo asked.

"That's my guess. Then they just need the Vortex Cube, which is in Britain, the moonstones, which are also in Britain, and the Convex and Concave lenses." I sighed. "Those Mellorin picked up the first time she came to the Isle."

"And now they just need to get in to the Shrine," Lord British said. "So the Guardian might want the Codex. What is thine other theory?"

"That he wants the Black Jewel of Mondain." To the dragon, I said, "That is trapped within the Flame of Infinity. Of course, he could always want _both_."

"That wouldn't surprise me," the dragon muttered. "So if the three Flames are out, as you say, why is that field between the Guardians still up?"

I pointed at Lord British.

"Him?"

"There's a title that was given to him a very long time ago. 'The Bearer of the White Light'. Richard _is _the Eternal Flame of Spirituality."

Everyone stared at him in amazement.

Lord British endured it for a minute then admitted, "I'd almost forgotten about that."

"Then why was Mellorin after _me_?" Shamino asked.

"I don't know," I answered.

"Nor doth Mariah," Lord British added. "She contacted me yesterday evening. Both she and Mellorin sensed thy Blinking, Elora. They know thou didst go to Iolo's house on the edge of the Deep Forest. The only reason they didn't follow is because they ran out of the appropriate reagents, and the Blacksword apparently didn't have enough power to enable Mellorin to attempt Blinking without them."

"So now what, then?" Julia asked.

"I'm going to another world to find out about this bracer," I told her. "I must find a way to stop Mellorin and restore my life. While I'm there, though, I'll see what I can learn of the Guardian's plans."

"We're accompanying thee?" Dupre asked as the companions exchanged glances.

"I wouldn't mind the company," I said with a smile. "But I'm not sure if you should all come unless you can all find replacements for yourselves on our islands."

"Already done," Iolo said, to which both Dupre and Katrina nodded.

"I don't think I've been here long enough to be missed," Shamino noted.

Julia said, "I can get several replacements. Nothing's going to keep me away from _this_. By the Virtues, I missed _one _opportunity to explore other worlds..."

"I'll be coming, too," Lord British said.

There was a pregnant silence.

"We know Elora hath lost the ability to heal - to use life spells. I will be needed."

He had a point.

"I'm a more than able swordsman," he added.

If _that _wasn't an understatement; Lord British was probably the greatest swordsman in Britannia.

"So it's agreed."

"Richard- "

He looked at me suspiciously. "Would everyone excuse us, please?"

"Leave?" Dupre echoed blankly.

"Yes, leave."

"Why?"

"Fool," Iolo said with a snort. He leaned over and whispered something to the knight...just loudly enough for everyone else to conveniently hear. "They're going to have a fight."

Lord British gave the bard a reproving look. "Dost thou _mind_?"

"What?" the bard said defensively. "It's true, isn't it?"

Dupre's eyes had brightened. "A fight? And thou wilt not let us _watch_?"

"Up for a little duel, are you, my Lord?" I asked the king, my eyes dancing.

Dupre let out a mournful sigh. "The greatest duel we'll ever see and we can't watch." He frowned. "Greatest duel...?" I could have sworn I heard something _click_ in his head, at this point. The knight leaped to his feet, eyes wide. "Everyone, stay calm!" he said, though his excited voice did little to inspire serenity. "Iolo, Shamino, Katrina, Julia-" he pointed at each companion with a trembling hand, "-book-keeping! Quickly, my friends, there's no time to spare!"

"Thou'rt placing _bets_?" Lord British spluttered.

I tried very hard not to grin. "Uh, Richard, you _do _realise that this is the kind of thing you'll have to endure should you choose to follow me."

The monarch gave out a faintly martyred sigh and looked at Dupre, who was pacing impatiently as he listed - aloud - possible gamblers.

"And who wilt _thou _bet on, Sir Dupre?" Katrina asked silkily.

The knight came to an abrupt halt as both Lord British and I looked at him expectantly. Giving Katrina a helpless look, he muttered something that could have meant anything then left the room with unseemly haste.

Katrina, struggling to hide a broad smirk, went after him with Julia at her side and the dragon-woman following. Iolo rolled his eyes and admonished both of us to be careful. Shamino - taking no pains to hide _his _grin - and Draxinusom left with the bard, leaving Lord British and me alone in the chamber.

"So...what are we going to fight about?" I asked blandly.

Lord British was silent for a minute, probably deciding on the best way to answer. "I'd like to come with thee," he said at last. "Draxinusom hath things well in hand here and I'd be doing more good assisting thee- "

"Your Majesty..." I used his title deliberately. He was my friend, but he was also the King of Britannia and I wasn't about to let him forget that, or the responsibilities that went with it. "I won't insult you by warning you how dangerous this will be, but...I really think you'd be better off staying here. Accidents _do _happen. If Draxinusom is killed, who will lead the people?" I left it unsaid that it would be a major catastrophe should Lord British himself die, but he knew _exactly _what I was thinking.

"Elora, I've been fighting monsters since before thou didst become the Avatar. I know I can be of use to thee." He paused and looked at me with worried blue eyes. "Is it a bad idea?"

"We _will _be going to a Guardian-dominated world, Richard."

"I want to come," he said, his voice softly insistent. "I can look out for myself." Then he laughed. "What? Do I have to make my point by actually challenging thee to duel?"

I could tell he was only joking, but I seriously considered it. If Mellorin was after him he'd be safer with me, no matter _where _I went. That said, I wanted the Lord of Britannia along on this mission as much as he did. Still, I wanted to see if he was as good as his reputation made out.

And how I'd compare.

Not that I had any doubts, of course...

"I accept," I said gravely.

He wasn't _quite _able to stifle a groan of chagrin.

"If you win, you can come with me to Atarka. So, what if I win?"

"Thy choice, Avatar."

"Your Majesty is _too _kind." I gave him a smile. "We'll see." I drew the Firedoom Axe and he readied his sword, then we both walked to the centre of the cavern. It had been purposefully left clear for sparring, so we had no need to move anything as we stepped inside a wide circle drawn on the floor. I shrugged out of my cloak and tossed it outside the ring with a flourish, then extended my weapon. Lord British held out his own and they tapped together lightly, signalling that the fight could begin.

"Ready?" I asked, then whipped my axe around at him without waiting for an answer. It whistled over his head as he ducked and grimaced.

"Yes." He slashed at my legs and I waited until the last instant before evading and loosing a spell of Paralyse.

He froze.

"Not good, Richard," I chided. "Being helpless is a good way to get killed." Stepping towards him to claim his sword, I almost lost due to overconfidence as he suddenly _moved_, left leg sweeping out to trip me, sword whistling toward my chest. I kept my feet, however, and managed to turn his blade aside, though almost stepped outside the circle. Sidestepping away to his left, I grinned. "Nice bluff."

"Not bad for a guy over three hundred years old, is it?" he returned, smiling back, though keeping his full attention on what I was doing rather than what I was saying.

Smiling inwardly, I circled him and backed toward the middle of the fighting area to give myself more room. He followed at a cautious walk, eyes on mine so as to catch anything I might give away on what I'd do next. Suddenly he jumped forward and lunged. I smacked the blow aside and retaliated with an overhead stroke, which he dodged. Pushing toward him, I swung the axe over his head and forced him back to the edge of the circle. One major advantage an axe had was that it was much heavier than most swords, so it was difficult for a swordsman to defend against. Lord British was using a longsword so it would be easy for me to break his weapon if he blocked at the wrong time. Therefore it was smarter for him to just try and get out of the way rather than engage in hand-to-hand.

"You're about to walk off the edge of a very high cliff, my Lord," I warned as his back foot almost touched the edge of the circle. "Casting a Fly spell won't count, you know."

"I had another spell in mind," he said as he twisted away from another attack. "An Xen Corp!" A brilliant white light sprang up around him and I found myself trying to turn my face away from it. It hurt to look at it and closing my eyes did no good.

I backed away, trying to shield my 'eyes' with an upraised hand. Even then I could _feel_ the presence of the spell. "Repel Undead?" I said, keeping my distance.

"That's right."

He came closer, forcing me back without having to do anything more than approach. When I attempted a quick move to the right he cut me off.

"What doth it feel like?"

I told him, then looked down and saw my feet on the line of the circle. Time to go forward again. Incanting the spell Leap in my mind, I jumped clear over the Lord of Britannia's head, the magic enabling me to reach a height that's normally reserved for pole-vaulters. Then, in the name of pure art, I added a flip so that I landed facing my adversary on the opposite side of the duelling circle. As he quickly moved toward me again, I cast Negate Magic, which cancelled both his spell and mine, then swept out my axe to catch his sword. The fight stayed with our weapons from there. I learned that, if anything, Lord British exceeded his reputation. He was _extremely_ good with a sword and had very few weaknesses. He might even be better than Dupre, I conceded as I defended myself from a flurry of slashing attacks. In a one-on-one situation, anyway.

But I was still better than both of them. It wasn't pride talking, just fact.

In the end, I pulled up just short of cutting his head off and he paused a hair's breadth from plunging his sword into my chest.

"Who wins?" he panted.

"I do," I replied. "That stroke wouldn't kill me."

"But if thou wert alive-"

"I wouldn't have even let you get that stroke through," I interrupted seriously. "The point is, I ignored a blow that would have hurt me in favour of getting in one that would kill you. Remember _what _you're fighting." I withdrew my weapon. "You don't disappoint me, though. The rest of the fight was excellent."

"The imprisonment in Castle Britannia gave me plenty of time to practise," he replied lightly, and sheathed his sword. "We'll have to spar again when this is over."

Rubbing my temples, I agreed. "That was a nasty spell you cast. I always knew that it repelled undead, but I never considered _how_. It's passing."

"'Tis a good thing thou didst remember Negate Magic." He grimaced. "Hadst thou not, I would have used it as another reason why I should come."

"The last time you went off on an adventure you ended up getting trapped in a mirror."

His blue eyes hardened. "That's not funny, Avatar."

"I wasn't trying to be funny, my Lord. I'm just pointing out that this will be dangerous. I'm not about to let you get yourself killed."

"I can take care of myself." He looked me square in the eyes. "I'm not afraid. It's time for me to fight, Elora. It's my duty as much as thine to protect Britannia."

"I'm glad you feel that way. I want you to come."

He stared at me.

"You're right, Richard. I _will _need your help." I extended my hand and assisted him to his feet. "The dragon could probably cast healing spells, but if she's not to be trusted as you think, we might be in trouble when the time comes for her to use her magic."

"There's another reason, isn't there?" he asked softly.

I sighed. "Yes."

"Mellorin?"

I nodded and said nothing more. She could enter the fort at any time with Arcadion's magic. From there, it would be a simple matter of reaching Lord British's room, overcoming the guards (which we both knew, modesty aside, that the Avatar would have little trouble accomplishing), then attempting to murder the king. It was safer for him to be with me than to stay here.

Lord British sheathed his sword with a wry smile. "So this means I'll be under thy command, doesn't it?"

My humour returned. "I wouldn't presume to tell thee anything, your Majesty."

He made a face. "Please, Elora. Being called that in the Guardian's lands is likely to get me killed."

"Well, what else is there? British, Cantabrigian or Richard?"

"Why couldn't my parents have given me a nice, inconspicuous name? Cecil, for example."

I broke out laughing. "Lord _Cecil_? I doubt your people would have been impressed."

"I was _joking_. Richard will be fine. I think we'd be in more trouble should someone call thee 'Avatar'."

"Maybe. We don't know that." Looking around, I said, "I guess we should get ready to- "

"My Lord! Avatar!" Dupre's voice was clearly audible before the knight himself entered the room at a run. Bracing himself against the entrance of the cave, he paused for breath then said, "Serpent's Hold is under attack again! The mages just reported the enemy ships dropping anchor south of the Isle of Deeds. They're preparing to disembark!"

"Grab Iolo, Shamino, Julia and as many archers as are on guard," I said quickly. "Meet in the courtyard. I'll contact Katrina on Ambrosia and have her and the dragon meet us at the Hold."

Dupre nodded once and left.

I sent my thoughts north-east and sped over the ocean, reaching Ambrosia in under a minute. The scrying shields were no longer in use, so I easily found the dragon's huge scarlet form as she daintily plucked up a sheep, broke its neck and proceeded to eat it.

"_I'll fly the shepherdess there_," she promised, and with that I returned to the Isle of Fire.

Lord British was waiting for me.

I nodded. "Let's go."

***

When Lord British, Iolo, Shamino, Dupre, Julia, fifteen archers and I teleported to the Isle of Deeds, I immediately spun to look west. The masts of warships could be seen rising behind the small town surrounding the Hold, and the sound of an army gathering was distant.

"They'll be marching this way soon," Dupre said tersely, "even if the port had some defence. We should make straight for the Hold."

I agreed and cast a glance at the sky. "We'll walk. We have to wait for Katrina and the dragon. Let's get inside before deciding what to do next."

We started off at a fast pace, trying to ignore the increasing volume of the enemy's cries of "Guardian!" Halfway to our destination, I felt a strong surge of ether and stumbled as it nearly knocked me off my feet.

"What was that?" I shouted as Iolo and Shamino helped me keep up.

"I don't-" Lord British began, then was cut off as Dupre deliberately knocked him down.

A bolt of crackling lightning rocketed through his previously occupied space.

I looked back.

Mellorin.

"Run," I said softly. "Get to the keep as fast as you can and _don't _stop."

They obeyed without question and I followed behind, ready to block any spells my double threw at us. Glancing over my shoulder a few times, I noted that she wasn't following, but was holding her position at the top of the small rise she'd teleported to. She seemed to be wearing the same things I'd seen her in last time, and the Blacksword was still strapped to her back.

"_Surrender your king to me, Elora_," her mind-voice commanded.

I ignored her, not about to fall into the trap of challenging her to try and take him. Instead, I stopped and turned to face her, one hand drawing my axe. "_Would you care to fight me now_?"

"_Not a large enough audience_," she replied, folding her arms. "_That will be remedied soon enough, though_."

"_I can see the _aeth'raesh'al_ gave you a full measure of Cowardice_."

She laughed. "_You're the one running, _Avatar_. Look at you! This time you have the strength to wipe out ten times the number of attackers and live, and you're running_!"

A deafening roar exploded overhead as the dragon plummeted from the sky with Katrina clinging to her neck. Mellorin looked up then went into an instinctive crouch as the huge reptile swept low over the ground and breathed fire across it, hiding my double behind a wall of flames.

"Arcadion!" the dragon screamed in a voice full of hatred. Turning on a wingtip, she flew back over to Mellorin's side of the flames with talons outstretched and fangs bared.

"_Dragon, no!_" I mind-shouted, horror-stricken. "_You're no match for her_!"

"_Keep out of this, liche! Arcadion killed Dracothraxus. It's _him _I want._"

"_Listen to me! Dracothraxus isn't dead, but if you insist on pursuing your thirst for vengeance to its final stupidity, let Katrina down first_!"

There was a mental snarl of frustration.

"What's she _doing_?" Dupre shouted to me.

I quickly went up to where he stood with the others beside the rapidly opening portcullis of Serpent's Hold. "She wants to kill Arcadion."

"Who doth not?" the knight shrugged.

"This is a little more serious." I concentrated and managed to Douse the dragon's fire.

"Virtues!" Iolo gasped, and the others drew in sharp breaths.

Now that the fire was gone, a vast enemy army could be seen nearing the position where Mellorin stood throwing Arcadion's fire magic at the circling dragon. Even at this distance I could see that the army was huge. Sunlight glinted off armour and the light wind stirred the many, many banners and pennons bearing the Guardian's face.

"There must be thousands of them," Dupre whispered.

"_And I could kill all of them and end the threat_," I thought bleakly to myself. "_Nothing is stopping me. Except me._"

"Quickly, friends, inside!" a knight said, gesturing from inside the gatehouse. He vanished within, standing beside a guard who was readying himself to close the portcullis as soon as we got in.

"_Come here, NOW_!" I telepathed angrily at the dragon. "_Or you _will _be left behind_!"

With a furious roar, the dragon broke off her attack and flew in our direction, the enemy soldiers immediately giving chase as Mellorin pointed at her with the Blacksword and shouted something that we couldn't hear over the cries of "_Ka-thra_!" I noticed, with a sinking feeling, that some of _these _soldiers wielded bows. A closer look at the dragon as she approached revealed she hadn't got away unwounded. She landed quickly near us and Katrina slid off her back.

"Hurry!" the knight's voice came from the gatehouse.

The dragon flickered out of sight.

"What are you _doing_?" I demanded, patience worn thin. "They're coming, for Virtues' sake!"

"I'm not going to let them see me change shape," her voice replied, thick with suppressed anger. "They'll know what I am. I'll explain later, if I haven't already." There was a faint ripple of ether and a lurid curse directed at the fragility of human bodies.

I dispelled her Invisibility and sucked in a breath at the sight before me. Three arrows stuck out from her human flesh - left thigh, left shoulder, low in her right side.

"I barely felt them," she whispered, then collapsed.

"Dupre!" I shouted. "Help!" I glanced up at the advancing army and felt a chill run through me. If I'd thought seeing an army march at me the last time I stood at Serpent's Hold was bad... This time there were more of them, I could see every one because it was day, they were running...and they were too close for comfort. Archers on the battlements started to loose arrows.

Dupre reached me and together we carried the dragon-woman inside. The portcullis grated shut behind us. Lord British came over and began a healing spell.

"Shamino," I called, and he came over. "We're not going to defend the Hold. I want you to get _everyone _to go under the keep where the Eternal Flame of Courage is. Was. Have Iolo, Julia and Katrina help."

"Thou wantest the knights to surrender Serpent's Hold? What if they won't listen?"

"Order them in Lord British's name if you must, but do it. We'll take them all to Atarka. If we just teleport somewhere else in Britannia, Mellorin will sense it, follow with her army and wipe us out."

Shamino, Iolo, Katrina and Julia went to carry out my instructions.

There was a cry of pain as Dupre pulled an arrow free from the dragon's shoulder. "The eastern half of the southern wall won't hold," he told me. "It's too weak - hath not been fully repaired since the last attack."

The knight on guard nodded. "We have had a pit dug around the area and filled with caltrops, Sir Dupre."

I looked at the mass of soldiers through the bars of the portcullis. "But where has Mellorin gone?" I muttered to myself, for I couldn't see her.

"Mellorin? Thou meanest the dragon?" the knight asked. "Was that its name?"

A weak snort of contempt came from Lord British's patient.

"Forget it," I said. "Takest thyself to the Flame Chamber, Sir Knight, and go _now_."

"Yes, Avatar," he said with a salute, and hurried off.

"I can walk," the dragon said as Dupre helped her up.

An arrow hissed past my head and there was a loud _clang _as another struck the portcullis. The dragon reared back as an arrow sped at her, its head slicing a thin gash across her brow as it continued its flight. "_Kemah-thra_!" she snarled. "Why me?"

"_Go_!" I said, then raised an Energy Field just outside the portcullis. Two arrows shattered against it almost instantly.

We hurried down the eastern corridor, but hadn't gone far before I felt a tingling touch against my mind. I shared a startled glance with Lord British and we both shouted, "Get down!"

An ear-splitting crack of breaking stone sounded just in front of us, and a whole section of the solid wall to our right exploded inwards. Suddenly the passage was filled with dust, shattered rock and enemy soldiers. There was no pit outside. This wasn't even the weak part of the wall.

Our weapons were out in an instant and we charged forward, seeking only to pass the breach and get to the stairwell on the other side. Unfortunately, the purpose of these corridors was to make it easy to _stop _people from getting through.

The tingling feeling came again and I reacted at once. Shoving my will up against the still-standing wall to our immediate right, I held it steady as an explosion slammed against it from the outside. The force of it still threw me off-balance, and I narrowly avoided a sword-thrust through the skull, but the wall didn't even tremble.

"Keep coming!" Shamino's voice shouted from the other side of the breach. As I felled a soldier, I caught a glimpse of the ranger, Iolo and some knights attacking the enemy from the rear.

"If we can force them back through the hole, I can seal it off," I told Lord British and Dupre, none of us slowing in our fights.

"Why not use magic to scare them off?" the dragon asked from behind us.

"Nowhere for them to run," Dupre shouted as he blocked a foe. "They're all streaming toward this one hole in the wall. There's no way out except through _us_." He jumped forward as his opponent fell, sword whipping out like red lightning.

I cast Mass Protection and charged after him, my axe striking left and right and tearing through armour and flesh with equal ease. Lord British kept to my left side and we were halfway past the hole when he decided to use magic. Half a dozen foes stopped in their tracks, Paralysed. They fell over like immobile statues as those behind pushed forward and trampled them.

"Thou knowest," the king said, panting slightly, "it's not completely immoral for thee to use thy magic. Just keep it under control."

"That means I have to think," I replied, skewering a soldier with the axe's balancing spike as the monarch defended my side. "And to quote one of my favourite movies, in a battle, 'You don't have time to think out there. If you think, you're dead.'" Nevertheless, I called on my undead powers and started to use them. "Get down!" I shouted to Dupre, who was in the way, then threw a Swordstrike through the gap in the wall.

The pinwheel of flashing blades spun from my hands and cut through the foes attempting to enter the Hold. The screams of agony as they were horribly sliced up went on and on as those beyond the breach were forced into it by those pushing from behind, unaware of the danger ahead. Blood, and worse, sprayed all over the place in a grisly, red fountain.

The few soldiers left inside the passage were quickly dispatched, then we joined Iolo, Shamino and the knights and continued on to the hall below Serpent's Hold.

"Nice fight," commented Shamino. "No one on our side dead; what more canst thou want?"

"Everyone on _their _side dead," I muttered to myself as the screams behind us followed our dash down the passage.

***

Sir Horffe barred the only door to the hall. I stood on the other side, next to the empty basin of the Flame of Courage, with my companions and Britannia's Lord. The hall was vast; easily large enough for the several hundred people of Serpent's Hold. Times long past it had been used for knightly gatherings, but I'd been told that the tradition had died out a few decades ago. Long enough ago that many junior knights hadn't known this hall even existed. A thick, stone pillar supported the roof at each of the four corners of the room, and the northern side had a small, raised dais with a few steps leading up to it. Huge tapestries dominated the walls to the north, east and west, each displaying a different facet of Courage: Valour, Honour, and Sacrifice. The residents of Serpent's Hold, everyone from knight to peasant, were all gathered here, and they spoke quietly amongst themselves. Most of those under arms stood near the door with their Master at Arms, Sir Horffe, in case they might be needed.

"We must take them with us to Atarka, Richard," I was saying softly. "If I teleport anywhere within Britannia, Mellorin will know, and she'll follow with her entire army."

"That maketh me wonder if we can _ever _return safely," he replied, but agreed. "Should I announce it, or wilt thou?"

"You're the politician, my Lord," I pointed out with a faint smile. "Try to come up with something that doesn't make it sound like we're running away."

He gave me a withering look.

"And I'd hurry," I added as the faint echo of footsteps drifted from the outer corridors. He turned to address the people and I jumped down from the dais to confer with the dragon. She stood beside Dupre, using her own magic to complete the healing Lord British had begun on her.

"What?" she asked me.

"Do you know what we can expect on the other side? When we teleport to Atarka?"

"That depends entirely on _where _on the other side we go to." She shrugged. "Besides, how would I know? _Aeth'raesh'ali _never had teleportation attributes before."

"Just wondering." I brushed a finger over the bracer. "You _did _know where the orange stone leads to."

Again she shrugged. "In any case, I think it's just as well you're taking these people with you. Since the _aeth'raesh'al_ was once Mors Gotha's, I think it's safe to assume that anywhere we go will be under the Guardian's rule, or invasion. If it's also under guard, you'll need whoever's a fighter."

"There is that."

The room suddenly erupted into thunderous cheers. I glanced around, startled to see that many of the knights had their blades up in salute. Lord British's sword was also aloft - its steely length still showing the stains of our last fight and providing silent proof that Britannia's king was willing to put his life on the line. That sword abruptly sliced down, swinging to point at me. "It is because of _her_," the king said, "that most of ye are alive this day. Not one of ye should have trouble remembering that she was not even spared death when she saved ye all from it. Fought with us and died _for _us. But now is not the time to repay that debt - not against _them_." He gestured above us in he direction of the enemy army. "Instead, she asketh that we follow her to the world from whence these invaders come!"

Conversation buzzed throughout the hall. I looked carefully at some of the peoples' expressions at this news. Not one person seemed surprised that I could take them to another world. Hell, after I'd obliterated over a thousand foes with a single spell, then came back to life on my own, they probably thought I could do anything.

"You really did that?" the dragon murmured.

"Did what?"

"You just 'thought' some of your memories to me, Avatar. I saw you fighting a massive battle on both physical and magical levels. In order to save your people, you..." She shook her head. "I never would have thought such Love and Courage existed in a human." 

I couldn't tell whether or not that was a compliment, so I didn't answer.

"Didst thou hear?" Dupre asked suddenly. "Richard didn't say why thou wantest these people along, but they've come to their own assumptions. They think thou'rt going to lead them against the enemy on their own ground!"

"Let them believe it," I replied. "I don't have any doubts we'll be doing some fighting over there. Maybe it _is _time to take the fight to the Guardian."

"That's _my _world you'll be marching over, Avatar," said the dragon, her voice ominous.

I looked at her. "I know. We'll want to avoid as many clashes as we can, anyway. At the moment we have to worry about retaking Britannia before we even _think _about liberating Atarka."

Lord British finally raised his arms again. The sound of enemy boots was getting louder. When the people fell silent, the king asked softly, "Are there any here who have no wish to come?"

No one moved for a minute. Then a knight called out, "Your Majesty, many of us have lost friends, family and homes to the enemy. My sister liveth in Moonglow, sire, and I've no idea how she fareth. I say, if the Avatar hath a plan that will help us, then I will follow her."

A murmuring of agreement followed the knight's words, and most of the people started to look at me with open respect and faith.

Dupre knew me well enough to know that I wasn't completely happy with the proceedings. "What's up?"

"_Our wonderful Lord British has just succeeded in putting _me_ in charge,_" I telepathed, unamused. "_I don't want to lead several hundred citizens! That's in _his _job description_!" I gave Dupre a sour look when he chuckled. "_You're supposed to be understanding and sympathetic._"

"Don't worry about that just now, Elora. Just get us out of here."

"You were never one to beat about the bush, my friend." I ascended the steps to where Lord British stood. "Why don't you crown me Lady of Britannia and have done with it?" I muttered.

"I'd never do that to thee, Elora!" he protested innocently. "But if thou'rt serious-"

"Virtues, no!"

He laughed softly. "Then let's go." He stepped down to stand with the people, leaving me alone on the dais.

"Everyone hang on," I called, and decided against adding, "I'm not entirely sure what's going to happen." Pressing the orange jewel that would send us between worlds, I then touched the facet of the central jewel that was edged by a second orange gem.

There was a slight lurch and I got the feeling I was looking at everything from underwater. Or perhaps through clear jelly, because everything seemed to slow down and wobble. I extended the field to surround everyone in the hall, and noticed that as they were included in the spell, I could see them as normal. Everything beyond the field wavered and became distorted.

Then a loud, reverberating crash came from the door, and five soldiers rushed in with drawn weapons. They gave no indication they could see us. As they turned to leave and continue their search for the Serpent's Hold defenders, everything vanished in a swirl of light-shot shadows...

__

To be continued in Book Four of 

__

The Black Ankh…


	7. Interlude

****

Interlude

"Where is the Lady Jaana?" Mayor Fenn of Trinsic demanded. "Doth _anyone_ know?"

Spark didn't. No one in the city knew. The druidess seemed to have vanished. She hadn't been seen by anyone for almost three days, and the young squire was worried. Jaana could fend for herself very well, he knew, but she hadn't told anyone she was leaving. It wasn't like her.

And it left Trinsic minus a powerful healer and mage.

"Damn," Fenn said when the warriors shook their heads. He paced before them like a caged wolf, his dark violet cape swirling. "Very well. Dismissed. Captain Hanuk, a word with thee."

The warriors returned to their duties, which mostly involved manning the battlements. The invaders weren't attacking; they'd camped to the north and had overrun the port to the east. A smaller force had gone south towards the stone circle over a week ago and hadn't returned. Spark supposed they were guarding it, but had no idea why that was so when the moongates no longer functioned.

He wished he'd gone to the Isle of Fire. That's where the Avatar and Lord British and all his friends had gone. They were all fighting the Guardian and he was here, polishing armour and running errands.

"Squire!"

Spark blinked, realised that he was the only one in the square apart from Fenn and Hanuk, then quickly approached the former and bowed. "Sir?"

Fenn handed him a folded parchment. "Takest this to Sergeant Deryn at the north gate, and step on it."

Spark stifled the simultaneous desires to groan and ask, "Before or after I give it to him, sir?" and ran up the paved road with the message in his fist.

Hm. Hanuk hadn't looked too happy.

He glanced down at the parchment. It wasn't sealed. Fenn might have written it on the spot...

What would Elora have done?

Spark slowed down, thinking.

Well... she _had_ opened that message Batlin had asked her to take to Minoc.

Spark glanced back to make sure Fenn and Hanuk weren't watching before ducking between two houses. He leant back against the brickwork and caught his breath, inserted a finger between a parchment fold... hesitated.

This would mean breaking his oaths. The message might be nothing.

"If it's nothing, I'll confess to reading it," he muttered, "but if it's someth-"

Words failed him as he read the parchment.

'_Deryn,_

We have no choice and Hanuk agreeth with me. Our food stores are depleted. If we don't act now we will starve and Trinsic will fall. This way at least, we might live _to see what will happen next._

_Fenn_"

Spark's mind raced as he refolded the missive. This certainly wasn't nothing, but he didn't know what it meant. Surrender? Escape? Attack?

He muttered something that would have earned him a reproachful look from even Sir Dupre, and peered out into the street. Fenn and Hanuk were nowhere to be seen, so he set off towards the north gate again. A few minutes later he was waiting outside the gatehouse as a guard went up to the battlements to get Sergeant Deryn.

He could see through the portcullis from here; there were a lot of soldiers outside.

Deryn came down and asked for the message. Spark handed it over as casually as possible, then tried to look nonchalant as it was unfolded and perused.

Had Jaana known this would happen, whatever it was? Was this why she'd left?

Spark stayed where he was standing as Deryn walked off to the barracks, wondering why he hadn't been dismissed. He watched the sergeant disappear within and frowned. Deryn had been on the Trinsic Guard for longer than Spark had been alive. Hook-nosed, dark or eye and hair, quiet, seldom rattled. So long as he didn't catch Spark doing something he disapproved of, they got along fine.

Hanuk had looked worried, Spark remembered. Deryn hadn't even blinked.

When the sergeant returned a moment later, he _still_ looked calm. He gave Spark a level look, a new parchment, said, "The Virtues keep thee safe," then strode back into the gatehouse.

How odd.

He noticed this message was sealed. The impression of an ankh in Trinsic's purple wax meant this was for Jaana, and Spark had already run half a block before he remembered she was gone. He pulled up short with another muttered curse.

What was the sergeant playing at? _He_ knew she was gone as well.

He turned around to run back, then paused. A split second later he was shaking his head. He couldn't open _this_ one. His curiosity didn't extend to opening the Avatar's companions' mail.

But with Jaana gone... _he _was the only one who could be considered a companion of the Avatar in all of Trinsic.

He stared down at the ankh seal, then up at the battlements.

Deryn was watching from above the gatehouse. He caught the squire's eye, nodded once, then looked the other way.

Spark broke the seal and opened the missive.

'_The password for the south gate is 'Ironwrought'. Leave Trinsic _now_. Takest the other squires with thee._'

***

Arcadion brooded in his crystalline prison. Elora had run away? How interesting... and unusual. He'd half-expected her to sally forth with another 'Vas Corp' on her lips, or at least transport herself to a different Britannian location. But leave?

Interesting.

Oh, she'd come back; she wasn't one to quit, but how soon? Undead, she was the next best thing to the immortal and the unliving.

It almost made him want to curse the magic that tied him to Mellorin. What he could have accomplished in Elora's undead hands! Her powers amplified a hundredfold... _more_... and he to direct it. He to influence her. She'd listen to him. Being a daemon, he was the only one who'd 'understand what she was going through'. He'd be sympathetic and wise. He'd offer guidance and encouragement. She'd come to trust him. To depend on him?

He grinned to himself, playing out the fantasy in his mind. And with that bracer, the planes would have been theirs for the killing.

_Would have_.

Instead he was bound to a mortal who was in turn bound to the Guardian. It had its moments. Killing Mariah and Jaana had been two definite highlights, and he was looking forward to Lord British, but in Mellorin's grasp he'd always be a servant.

In Elora's he could have been the master.

She'd never have freed him; who'd want to give up powers such as he had? But he would have been prepared to sacrifice freedom in exchange for unlimited power... and his own Avatar.

He had few pleasures in this mundane existence, and speculation was one of them. Now he thought about the heart-jewel of the _aeth'raesh'al_. He understood what he'd heard in the conversations between Mellorin and the Guardian. What would Elora have done if her double had been born of a _white_ _kel'al_? He laughed softly at her imagined consternation. The Guardian never would have done such a thing - a pure, good Avatar would have been impossible to corrupt. But what _would_ Elora have done? Probably gone on at her perfect double about how you couldn't be human without having daemons, he thought with a smirk. Yes, that was her.

Arcadion prided himself on understanding humans better than humans did. They thought humanity meant making mistakes and doing evil. "I'm only human." As if it was an excuse. No, he knew better. Humanity meant being _able _to make mistakes - having the choice. Humans just liked being daemons. They liked the dark. They didn't want to consider life without it.

Humans. They lamented their own faults, condemned others for _theirs_, yet they'd never accept being perfect. The idea was unthinkable.

That was why the darkness would always ultimately triumph.

With an odd twinge, he thought Elora would appreciate this insight. Perhaps... she might even understand.

He shook himself mentally and grimaced.

How would that help her?

He growled.

Not that he wanted to _help_ her. Even if he did, it would do her no good. He knew what her future held. She would murder. She would drown a world and set it on fire. She would steal their magic and destroy their beliefs, then walk away without a backward glance.

For a moment, these thought gave him pause. 

In the depths of the volcano Morgaelin, had he met Elora or Mellorin?


	8. Sands of Flame

****

Book Four of The Black Ankh

by Shadow of Light Dragon, aka Laura Campbell

__

Beauty rivalling deepest seas

This vast expanse of sand...

Sun-bleached, wind-blown, dead and dry,

Here you drown on land.

***

"We're here."

Dazed, the people glanced at their surroundings. Gone were the stone walls of the Keep of Courage. Instead, a thick forest stood around us in a wide circle, and it immediately became apparent that it was night. We stood in a clearing, which was dominated by a round pool of shimmering water. What puzzled me was the ground. Sand. _Red _sand, as though each grain were stained by blood.

"Are we in Atarka?" I asked the dragon-woman.

She pointed up. "Count the moons."

I did. "Five."

"And that constellation up there is the _kha_ - the cat. This is Atarka." She frowned. "But I don't remember this place...come with me. I want to see something and you should come."

I nodded and turned to Lord British. "I'll be back in a minute, ok?"

"I'll keep an eye on things, Elora. We'll see if we brought any food, and we'll get our water skins filled."

"No," the dragon said, and the king blinked at the interruption. "Don't let anyone touch that water. Not yet."

He shrugged. "Very well."

"Let's go," I said.

"I'm coming," Dupre said, falling in beside us.

The three of us went into the trees - north, as far as I could tell, but I had absolutely no way to be sure - pushing aside dense undergrowth on our way. The vegetation was very green, but strange. I recognised none of the species I saw, though some were similar to Earth or Britannian breeds.

"_Kemah-thra_," the dragon muttered at last. "It's about time..." She pushed aside a branch to reveal the end of the trees.

And the beginning of a desert.

"The Krain Desert. Named after the oldest of my kind," she added softly.

"We can teleport somewhere else," I said. "We don't have to cross this desert."

"Use your magic, liche," she replied, her voice heavy and without its usual mocking edge. She pointed north-west. "Look that way until you see a change in the scenery."

I faced that way and sent my sight toward the horizon. Across a vast sea of crimson sand I flew, veering around dunes and the occasional solitary rock. When there was no change in what I saw after a minute, I went faster. The sands sped past in a blur, a smear of moonlit red. It seemed a long time before I could make out a difference in the horizon. Mountains. They still looked a long way off.

I jerked my vision back where it belonged and told my two companions what I'd seen.

"The Tuay Mountains. That is where the Dragonlore is kept - or it was, when I lived there."

"_That _is our destination?" I exclaimed. "We can't walk that far!" I paused. "What if only a few of us went? I could Blink us there. You could _fly_ us there!"

"Not me," the dragon said adamantly. "Not even if I was Invisible the whole way."

"And how would we return?" Dupre asked. "With no point of reference, we could easily miss our starting point." He turned to the dragon. "How big is this forest?"

"It's barely a pocket of green in the middle of this wasteland. Your knight is correct, Avatar. Even with your powers we could miss this grove a hundred times." She hesitated. "You didn't see any dragons, did you?"

I shook my head. "No, but I wasn't very close to the mountains."

She sighed.

"But what about the bracer?" I said, returning to the topic. "We could fly or Blink or whatever to those mountains then I could just teleport us right back here!"

"That might work."

Dupre asked, "Should we see if we can find a place that's closer first?"

"I'm going to make a guess here," the dragon said. "In Britannia, the _aeth'raesh'al_ teleports to locations near shrines - places of Virtue. This grove is a shrine - a temple. The _Telomar _of Silence. I'm assuming that the other teleportation locations are also _telomari_."

"So you know where they are in relation to those mountains," I said.

"Yes. And this one is the closest."

I considered this. "Let's go back to the others."

"Not much in the way of good news," Richard told me when we returned. "What food we have will only serve as a small snack once it's divided. We have enough water for half a day - longer if we're careful with rationing."

"Half a day," I said, then lowered my voice. "Richard, we're in the middle of a desert."

The dragon scratched a rough map into the sand. "We're here," she indicated the mid-west of the Krain Desert. "Here are the Tuay Mountains-" she made some lines that stretched all around the north, west and south of the desert like a hand forming a 'C', only with long horizontals stretching east to west and a shorter vertical forming the north-to-south western border. "The dragon caves, here, north-west of us and something like an eight to ten day trek for a fully provisioned group. That's just a guess, of course. I've never actually had to walk across the desert."

"We'd never make it," Richard said, one hand rubbing his bearded chin. "The mountains to the west are closer. Is there aught that way?"

"The Castle of Flames - Krain Castle - though that's the centre of power in Atarka. I don't know if we should go there."

I held up a hand to halt Richard before he could ask another question, then said, "A few of us can Blink to the mountains then I can use the bracer to bring us back here."

"We can't just teleport to the caves?" he asked.

"If I'm right," the dragon-woman said, "and the _aeth'raesh'al_ only teleports us to _telomari_ like this one, then we'll only get further away from our destination."

"Where are the other _telomari_s?" I asked.

"_Telomari_. The 'i' makes it a plural, Avatar." She shrugged and pointed at the map in the sand. "There's one here on an island in the Great Sea to the south. That's not a good idea, since it's too far to swim to shore. There's another here," she pointed to a spot in the north-west, far beyond the spot marking the dragon caves. "That's relatively close, but the _telomar_ is in a volcano. Unless you can fly everyone out, I'd forget that one, too." She pursed her lips. "There was another on the eastern edge of the desert atop Highrock-"

"Closer to the dragon caves, if you please," I said.

She made a small impression in the middle of the top half of the desert with one fingertip, a frown creasing her brow.

"Dragon?"

"There aren't any closer. There are no _telomari _on the northern side of the Tuay Mountains." She pulled a small twig from her map. "Still, the Krain was never hospitable. Perhaps it _would _be better if we teleported to the one in the volcano."

"What is a _telomari_?" Richard queried.

"Shrines. Temples. Places of worship. This is the _Telomar _of Silence."

Those nearest us suddenly fell silent, and it grew until a hush had fallen over the entire clearing.

The dragon-woman snorted. "Idiots. You can still _talk_, Silence is just for those who are intending to listen to the words of the Guardian."

That took a few seconds to sink in. Suddenly, everyone was _talking_.

"Humans!" she exclaimed, exasperated. Turning to me, she added, "At least I can talk to _you _without having any of my kin laugh."

This reminder that I was a liche was _not_ appreciated. She ignored my icy stare, however, and swept on.

"This is the reason why I said not to drink the water. It is imbued with druidic magic. Anyone who drinks of it will have to prepare themselves to go into an extended trance."

As she said this, the hairs on the back of my neck stood up. "She's here."

"Mellorin?" Richard asked. "I thought I felt something faint."

"Not faint enough," I replied, and pointed south-east. "That way."

"Highrock," the dragon said. "If I were you, I'd order your humans to start marching west _now_. Teleporting is no longer an option."

"To that Castle of Flames?" Richard asked, keeping his protest as soft as he could. "We won't make it!"

"No, there used to be a village between it and us. With luck, we'll reach it."

"I'll raise a scrying shield," I said. "She won't find us unless she teleports here, or I teleport and lower the shield. Can you tell what time it is, dragon?"

"Before midnight, I think."

"Then we can get quite a distance before the sun rises." I frowned and turned to Dupre and Richard. "Gather the people on the western side of this forest, right on the edge of the desert. Dragon, go with them."

They moved off and I thought it might be a good idea to organise everyone into groups later. That way it would be easier to keep track of what was going on.

"Shamino!" I called.

The ranger looked over from where he stood.

"Grab Iolo and Katrina, then come here, please."

"What do we do?"

"Make it look like no one was here. Help me pick up anything we've dropped. And hurry. Mellorin's looking for us."

"She's here?" Iolo said as he approached.

I nodded. "Come on."

When the area had been cleared of people, the four of us combed the sand for anything we'd left behind. A scrap of cloth, a broken arrow-shaft, a torn piece of leather - everything was collected. With the keen eyes of the ranger, bard and shepherdess, I had little doubt we'd overlooked anything.

"Footprints?" Shamino asked.

"I can handle them," I said. "Stand back behind me in the trees." I called forth wind to blow across the sand, being careful not to blow too much into the pool. The clearing certainly looked better than it had a minute ago. I shook my head. There was no way we could entirely hide that a lot of people had just passed through.

"That will do," Shamino said, but we knew it was more because we were out of time than that the traces of five hundred people had been effectively hidden. 

Katrina said, "Maybe she won't follow us."

Shamino only shrugged. "Where do we go from here?"

"West," I answered in a grim voice. "Across the desert."

***

"There used to be a human settlement to the west of here - a village," the dragon told me. "They'd built their homes around a large oasis. It should take four or five days to get there." She'd changed her armour into some light clothes - a robe of cotton or linen that matched the colour of the Krain. There was a hood that she could raise once the sun rose, and a veil-like cloth to protect the face from wind-blown sand.

"Richard is able to duplicate water until then," I said, "for as long as his strength holds up. I only wish I could help him."

She nodded. Creating or duplicating food and water, substances of life, _required life_. "I will help if there is need."

I was a little startled. She didn't usually offer anything unless there was something in it for her. "Thank you."

The dragon-woman shrugged and continued walking in as much silence as the sand would allow.

I looked back. Five groups, composed of seventy knights, ten archers and twenty townspeople each, followed behind us. They were all under the care of Iolo, Shamino, Dupre, Katrina or Julia - one companion to a group. Further back the wooded grove of the _Telomar_ of Silence could be seen - a dark blur on the horizon after our so-far three-hour trek. I'd felt Mellorin teleport herself there a while ago, but if she'd seen us, she apparently wasn't going to give chase. Still, there was no way to be sure that my double had left Atarka to search other worlds. I could only sense her arrival, not her departure.

"You look tired already," I said as Richard caught up to us. "How far did you-"

"That's one thing I should tell you," the dragon interrupted. "Atarkans speak with 'thee's and 'thou's, and so on."

"Ok, thanks." I turned back to Richard. "How far did you get with the water?"

"I've managed to double the amount," he told me. "That's all we can carry, though. I've filled every water container we have."

"So we can last a full day?"

Again the dragon spoke up. "Half a day."

"That was before."

"The days here are longer."

If my heart hadn't been beating it would have stopped. I stared at her with sudden intensity. "_How much _longer?"

"Seven days on Britannia is roughly equal to five days here. Each day is about...thirty-three of your hours."

"Virtues..."Richard whispered. "How much of that hath sunlight?"

"Around eighteen."

I tried to keep my tone even. "Is there anything else we should know?"

She returned my look without expression. "I'm sure I'll think of something."

"How are the others keeping up?" I asked Richard.

"Fine, for now. The nights here aren't anywhere near as cold as the ones in Britannia's desert. Makes me wonder how hot the days are." He raised a brow at the dragon.

"Depends on the season," she grunted. "Don't ask me. I don't know how much time has passed since I was last here."

"Elora," Richard said suddenly, a look of alarm on his face. "What if time runs differently here to Britannia? We could be here a day, and a year could be passing back home!"

"I never considered that," I whispered, my left hand rubbing the bracer. "But if that were so, would Mellorin have come here looking for us?"

He kicked at the sand and it went flying in a fountain of pink grains. "I hope thou'rt right." Letting out a deep breath, he glanced back at the five hundred or so men, women and children following us, his face deeply troubled. And afraid. "This could be bad." There was no question that some of these people would never make it.

"Very bad," I agreed softly.

At that moment, Iolo came up to us. "Elora, Milord," the bard said, inclining his head slightly, "I'd advise we stop and rest for a while. Some of the people are having trouble keeping up. Mainly the young, the old and any wounded."

"The old, eh?" I said, grinning at him.

He rolled his eyes skyward then exchanged a grimace with Richard.

"Ah, to be a hundred years old again," the latter sighed.

I laughed. "Ok, Iolo, who did you leave in charge of your group?"

"Sir Horffe, the Gargish knight. Dost thou remember him?"

I nodded. "I'll tell him and the others we're stopping. An hour or half that, do you think?"

Iolo's brow creased a little and he scratched his white beard. "We don't want to waste time before sunrise."

I told him what the dragon had said about Atarkan days.

"Virtues," he said softly, then shook his head. "I'd say we see how everyone feels after half an hour. Should we need more time..." he shrugged.

"Ok." Halting, I sent a telepathic message to stop and rest to those in charge of the separate groups. An instant later the words were called out aloud and the sound of people stopping and lowering themselves to the sand followed.

"How bad are the wounded?" Richard asked Iolo.

"Not seriously enough for thee to worry about. Just the kind of wounds that make walking a little harder."

"Tell me if they get worse."

The bard nodded. "I will. How art thou feeling?"

"Unfit," he replied wryly. "I can't remember the last time I had to walk this far."

"Welcome to the esteemed ranks of those who follow the Avatar," Iolo said extravagantly.

"_Must _you?" I asked, giving him a sour look.

Iolo grinned, then glanced behind me and his expression changed. "Excuse me a minute," he said abruptly, and hurried off to a knot of people sitting in the sand.

Shamino, Dupre, Katrina and Julia chose that moment to join us at the head of the groups. We spent a minute asking after each other's health and sat in a circle on the sand, the light of the five moons more than enough for us to see clearly. Iolo rejoined us a minute later.

"Sorry," he said. "A couple of children were about to use some water for a sandcastle." He sat down between Richard and Dupre.

I told them how long Atarkan days were first. A brief look of despair crossed their faces only to be replaced by a stiffening resolve. They weren't going to give up any time soon.

"We should get rid of our armour while we can, then," Dupre said. "Now that we're far enough away from that grove, we should bury any metal armour under the sand. It will be too much effort to carry."

"And suicide to wear," Shamino added.

Dupre undid the straps of his own breastplate and let it fall to the sand with a dull ringing sound. As he shrugged out of the light mail shirt he wore underneath, he said, "I just hope we won't need these later."

"What should we expect at this village around the oasis we're walking to?" Julia asked the dragon.

"Most importantly, water is for the taking," she replied. "Though, unless things have changed, the people are sympathetic to the Guardian. You should tell your humans to watch their tongues. From there we can decide where to go next. I should see how much has changed first."

"You said the desert wasn't hospitable," I said. "Anything we should look out for?"

She let out a thoughtful breath and squinted at the sky, as if remembering. "I'm fairly sure there would still be _shem'lysiei_ out here, no matter how much time has passed. Sand serpents."

"Snakes?" Shamino asked.

She shook her head. "Not of the normal kind. Take one of your Britannian sea serpents then let it swim through sand instead of water. That's a _shem'lysie_."

"How do they swim through sand?" Julia objected.

"All along their bodies they have hundreds of thousands of air sacs. When you release air into sand, it becomes almost liquid. Watch." She looked at me. "Avatar, put your hand in the sand and summon air to flow out through it."

I scraped a hold in the ground and did as she said. There was a fuzzy feeling as the grains started to swirl around my hand, remaining at ground level, but floating on air.

"Now you-" she pointed at Dupre, "-take her hand."

Dupre moved to dig a hold as I had, but his hand passed easily through the sand. His eyes widened and he cupped his other hand, scooping up a handful of red grains as one would lift water. Then he found my hand and grasped it.

"Now cut off the air flow," the dragon instructed.

I did, and the sand immediately settled, effectively burying our hands halfway to the elbows.

"That's how they move. Breathing is a different matter; they have to surface every once in a while both to replenish their air sacs and to take another breath. They can hold that breath for a _very_ long time, though. They'll just lie under the sand where it's cool, closing off their air sacs until they feel inclined to move - and that's usually when they sense something passing on the surface overhead."

"Like us?" Dupre asked, digging his hand free.

"Like us."

"But-"

"They'd take me on even in dragon form. They're very aggressive to intruders."

"And there's no way to tell if we're on their land," I said frowning. "Unless we see one surface."

"That won't happen unless it's a decoy. They'll feel us tramping around up here ages before even they could see us. If they have to surface, they'll do so where they won't be seen."

"That's all we have to worry about," Julia muttered. "How hard are they to kill?"

"_Now this is a human I could get to like_," the dragon telepathed to me. Ignoring my smile, she said aloud, "Depends on how many there are. We'd have little trouble with one, but a single _shem'lysie_ is unlikely to attack a group this large unless it's desperate. Just think of it as attacking a sea serpent without benefit of a ship."

"Can they breathe fire?" Richard asked.

"No. But they can blast you with enough sand to flay the skin from your bones."

"Lovely," Katrina murmured.

The dragon shrugged.

"Is there any way we can sense them by magic?" I asked.

She shook her head. "Unless undead eyes can see through tonnes of sand, I don't know. We're safe if we get to that village. Most of the ground is solid rock."

"What if Elora teleported herself to one of those shrines and tried to lead Mellorin away?" Julia suggested. We all stared at her as she expanded her idea: "If Mellorin's still on this world, she's bound to follow, right? If she doth not show up, we'll…" she faltered. "…well, we won't _know_ she's not on this world…"

"Say she _does_ follow," I said, "what would I do then? She'd never believe me if I said I left you guys on some other world."

We thought on that for a moment, but couldn't come up with anything.

Dupre stood and undid his greaves. "I'd best tell my group to doff their armour. If we're finished here?"

I looked at the dragon, who nodded, and said, "Yeah, that's it for now. Get some rest and I'll contact each of you when it's time to move."

Richard, the dragon-woman and I were left sitting where we were. The former rolled up his cloak, put it under his head and lay facing the stars. A second later, his blue eyes were closed.

"A good fighter learns to get sleep whenever he can," I said softly. It was something ingrained in everyone who trained in a martial following.

Richard didn't open his eyes. "I haven't heard that line in a long time."

"Neither have I. It's good advice."

His lips curved into a smile. "I know."

"_What about you_?" I asked the dragon silently.

"_I can go for weeks without sleep_."

"_As a dragon, you mean_."

"_Kemah-thra_," she muttered. "Very well, you have me there." She arranged her robe then lay down on the sand, but didn't close her eyes. Stirring the sand with a finger, she looked up at the stars and moons. "_It's different, Avatar. Everything has changed_." She sighed sadly, and looked at her human hands. "_Even me_."

_Even me_... What about _my_ home? What could the Guardian do with a place like Earth? I shook my head. I thought I'd gotten over all that long ago. Banishing the image of nuclear explosions on every horizon, I settled down to wait.

***

Dawn came. The blazing orb of the sun rose behind us and its heat followed quickly.

"_Now_," I telepathed, and heard the word echoed aloud by my companions to their groups.

Everyone hunkered down in the sand, hollowing out shallow nests for themselves and drawing their cloaks over their heads. The cloaks were propped up near the face by anything that would serve - arrows, daggers, anything to provide breathing space. Those who had no cloaks - mainly children - shared with others. It was the best protection they had against the sun. It would be murder trying to sleep as the morning progressed, but there was nothing more to be done.

I made one round of the entire group to check on everyone before returning to my place at the front.

"Want me to 'In Zu' you?" I offered after watching Richard shift around in the sand for five minutes.

"I'm just getting comfortable," he replied, though sweat beaded his brow and darkened his blond hair. "The sand's cooler deeper down."

After a while I rechecked my scrying shield and sent my sight out to have another look. I went up for a bird's eye view and peered down from above. I even zoomed further west to see if I could find that village.

It's hard to have hope when it looks like there's no end to where you are.

***

The following night was practically the same as the first, save the people were more subdued. Although everyone had slept, none had slept well, and it was too much effort to talk. Food ran out and Richard replenished some of our dwindling water supply, but only managed to do half the amount he'd done before. The dragon did the rest.

We reached an end to the flat part of the desert after a few hours and entered the dunes. This was when things got harsh for the Britannians, as we had to climb the shifting sand. The gruelling activity on legs already weak from a long journey across the desert took its toll. We were forced to stop and rest more regularly.

I was almost shamefully glad that, being undead, this was barely affecting me. Every break I'd go to the rear of the company and do my best to hide the wide trail we were leaving behind us. Every break I'd wander between the groups, speaking with those still inclined to use their strength speaking, reassuring those who needed it...staying silent when I overheard people whispering things like, "She's the Avatar. We'll be fine. The Avatar..."

An undead Avatar. None knew but those closest to me.

The last rest period before dawn, a weary Richard looked at me and thought what he was too tired to say. "_Something is wrong. What is it_?"

I sighed and sat down next to him, staring over the moonlit sands. "_Doubting myself. Doubting my chances of getting everyone through this desert alive_."

"_Understandable, Elora_."

"_They all have such hope in me_," I went on, gesturing at the Britannians_. "They believe that if we make it, it will be because of me_."

"_They're right_." He let out a long breath and scratched his beard. Grains of sand sifted down from it. "_Thou'rt the only reason they've managed to come this far. Remember that if not for thee, we'd all have fallen to Mellorin's army at Serpent's Hold_."

I gave a bitter laugh. "_If not for me, Mellorin wouldn't exist_."

"_Let them believe in thee_," Richard thought. "_If it maketh them stronger_-"

"_Let them believe a lie_?"

He looked at me thoughtfully, eyes suddenly alert and penetrating despite how tired he was. "_Thou meanest, 'Let them believe _in_ a lie_,' _dost thou not_?" When I didn't answer, he asked,"_What did Mellorin tell thee? That thou canst not be an Avatar if thou art undead_?"

"_It's true. No, it is_," I insisted before he could argue otherwise. "_I'm losing it, Richard. How can I have Compassion for these people when I can't feel their pain? As for Valour...what's Courage when you have nothing to fear for? And Truth? Look at me. I'm hiding behind a lie as we speak_." I allowed my eyes to glow for a brief time to emphasise my point. "_Face it. I _am_ a liche. I'm an affront to the Virtues_."

After a short silence, Richard leaned forward and pressed a finger against the golden Ankh I wore. "If that were true," he said softly, meeting my eyes, "thou wouldst not be here."

***

Terrified screams turned my head. There was a roar and the sands trembled. A large reptilian head reared up above the dunes behind me. It tilted back, lifting its chin and flipping a limp, human figure into its dagger-toothed maw. A barely audible crunch of bones reached my ears and the sand serpent looked down with flat black eyes, as if determining who to devour next.

"Over here, you bastard," I muttered, summoning a globe of raw energy and throwing it at the monster's head. It struck full on in an explosion of crackling, violet-blue lightning.

The serpent shrieked and swung its head toward where I stood, which was a few dunes away from where the Britannians were resting in the midday sun's blistering heat. I hurled another spell and drew my axe.

"Come on!" I shouted.

The creature ducked, hissed, then thrust itself upwards - its long, orange-red scaled body arching higher than the tallest tower of Castle Britannia. When its head drew equal with the sun above, the sand serpent curved over and plunged straight for me at breakneck speed - its jaws opening in a scream of death and its teeth glinting like polished steel. At the last moment the creature abruptly veered to one side, and the Swordstrike spell I'd intended to hurl down its throat glanced against its massive body, slicing the scales as it spun away into the sky and the serpent dove into the sand.

Before I had time to ponder the serpent's actions, the sand suddenly turned to water beneath me.

"_Avatar_!" I heard someone shout before a second sand serpent swallowed me whole.

Daylight vanished and I found myself sliding down what would have been a pitch-black throat to anyone else. Keeping my wits, I threw the Firedoom Axe hard against the wall of the slick tunnel and heard it rip as I continued to fall. The sand serpent jerked, convulsing from the pain, and I lost my grip on the axe-haft. Sparing a curse as I hurtled downwards and lost sight of the axe, I looked down instead and pointed, unleashing a volley of fiery explosions. I had to get out of there before I found myself under the ground. I wouldn't suffocate, but it might take me a day or two to dig my way out of several tonnes of sand.

The sand serpent convulsed again and its throat contracted, halting my fall. Just as I was considering an attempt to hack open a hole with my boot daggers, there was an upheaval. I was being thrown up! I rushed upward at a tremendous speed and was soon seeing daylight framed by two rows of long teeth above me. Gathering myself, I dropped a Delayed Blast in the monster's mouth just as I was spewed forth into the desert sky.

The serpent hissed menacingly as it saw its tormentor flying away and whipped its head after me, teeth ready to bite me in two.

For a second, I was staring down its throat again.

A sudden _BANG_ echoed between the dunes and the sand serpent's head exploded in a cloud of sooty flames. I was thrown even faster through the air and crashed into someone who dragged me aside as the stump of the serpent's neck and body crashed down. Sand, blood and gooey grey stuff flew everywhere.

"Thou dost never cease to amaze me!" Shamino shouted from nearby. "Now wouldst thou mind helping us with the other one?"

But the first serpent, apparently unwilling to linger after the death of its companion, arched backwards and away from the humans before vanishing beneath the sand.

Cheers broke from the Britannians as weapons lowered.

"Don't let your guards down," someone shouted. It was the dragon-woman. "It'll be back soon!" She looked at me. "I told you - they're aggressive. Be ready!"

The people looked around warily and fell silent.

"_It'll go through the middle of the group, parallel to the ground_," she telepathed, "_trying to scoop up as many humans as it can before going under for another pass_."

"_You sure_?"

"_Pretty sure_." Suddenly, her eyes widened as she and about fifty others sank down into the sand up to their waists. Shorter people were buried to mid-chest. "_But I'm occasionally wrong_."

"How do we fight _this_?" Shamino asked. His magical Juggernaut Hammer was out and ready to throw. "An earthquake, perhaps?"

"Tremor," I said, snapping my fingers. "It's worth a try." I struck the ground with my mind and it trembled slightly at first, but then with a greater intensity. Sand spilled down the dunes and I concentrated on keeping the Britannians steady, even as I shook the desert.

The sand serpent emerged, obviously confused by its homeland's violent shaking.

"_Well done_!" the dragon's mind-voice said, sounding both surprised and relieved.

Britannian archers loosed their arrows. Shamino threw his hammer, both Richard and I sent bolts of lightning lancing through the air.

The sand serpent roared.

"Look out!" the dragon shouted.

I raised an Energy Field just as the serpent's jaws parted and a devastating blast of crimson sand screamed towards those closest to it. Sand and arrows both bounced back as they hit the field. A second later the serpent itself slammed up against it. As it stopped, screaming its fury, I dropped the field. "_FIRE_!"

Arrows struck. One eye was pierced and the serpent went mad. Its head reared back and its spiked tail suddenly appeared on the opposite side of our group. Three people were impaled before a knight got close enough to hack it short. Other knights went for the neck as the serpent's head evaded both missiles and magic. It swept down to snap at the sword-wielding humans and someone leaped atop its head, grabbing hold of the spiny crest.

"Dupre, thou'rt _mad_," Shamino breathed as I simply stared, speechless.

The serpent shrieked and shook its head wildly. The tiny form that was Dupre reversed his sword and, while gripping a bony ridge atop the head firmly with his legs, drove it down into the huge skull with both hands. Again the serpent screamed. Its long body formed coils as its head swung round in circles and it vainly sought to get at the knight with its teeth. Then it fell, smashing through a dune and shuddering from head to severed tail. Only when it lay still did anyone approach.

"Not as impressive as thine," Dupre admitted to me as he casually shook sand from his hair, "but at least we get the same result."

"That was...amazing," I said, grinning.

"That was _insane_!" Shamino retorted.

Dupre looked down his nose at the ranger and sniffed. "Thou'rt just jealous!"

Shamino spluttered.

I shook my head and regarded those gathering around the dead sand serpent. "Lend a hand, everyone," I shouted to them. "We have to dig the others out." I flung a hand out to indicate those who were half-buried in the sand. "Before they roast to death," I added softly to my two friends. They nodded and quickly moved to help clean up the mess our dead attackers had left us.

Later, I listened to the death tally. Seventy-eight killed or missing. Another eight severely wounded.

"We need your strength to make water," I told Richard quietly. "Heal if you must, but don't Resurrect. More lives will be lost if there is nothing to drink."

He shook his head, frustration evident on his haggard face. Shielding his eyes from the westering sun he looked down at the row of bodies lying on the sand, awaiting burning. "I'll never get used to feeling helpless," he said, and started down the dune.

"At least you can Heal," I murmured.

Iolo was standing on my other side and, as he heard this, he smiled and patted the broken arm he now bore in a sling. "He can only Heal us in body, Avatar."

I shook my head. "Whatever. Why aren't you resting?"

"Mind's too busy. I've been trying to think of a way to turn all this into a tasteful saga. How doth this sound?" He cleared his throat.

"Terrible. How did you get a cold in a desert?"

"Oh, _very _funny."

"Thank thee," I said modestly.

"There you are." The dragon-woman climbed the dune to where we stood and faced me. "What are you planning to do now?"

I frowned. "Did you have a suggestion?"

"I'm just making sure I don't have to dissuade you from any stupid notions of staying put until the wounded heal."

Iolo bristled at her tone, but I shook my head. "Richard's helping those he can right now. We'll move on at sunset."

"Since he can only spare enough to aid those who can't walk, why dost thou not help him?" Iolo suggested stiffly.

She regarded him coolly. "I take it you don't like me either."

"Dupre explained it pretty well last time. 'Tis thine attitude and thy damned indifference."

She went back down the dune without answering.

"_Wait,_" I telepathed to her as Iolo sighed in exasperation. "_I want to ask something. Can we extract any water from the sand serpents' bodies_?"

"_You can_," she replied, still picking her way downdune."_But it will be too salty to drink, and we can't spare the time to purify it. Besides, I don't know where they store their water, and there's a lot of body to cover_."

"She is so annoying," Iolo fumed.

"You don't usually stir so easily," I observed.

"It's the heat." He tried to fan himself with one hand and quickly gave up. "I think I'll try to get some sleep. Wilt thou be fine without me?"

"I'll try not to wither away while you're gone."

He chuckled and followed the dragon's tracks down the dune.

I lowered the illusion of health on my right arm and stared at my dead-white hand. Fine lines wound around the fragile-looking skin like spider webs, and the fingernails were yellow. Clenching the hand into a fist, I watched blue veins bulge as the skin was pulled taut. "I'll try," I whispered.

***

One more knight died before sunset. After the body was laid out with the others, Dupre announced the names of the slain and Lord British followed him by calling on the Virtues to guide their spirits home.

Then I invoked fire.

As the bodies burned, I noticed that many of those alive were weeping. Their tears shimmered in the light and I remembered that almost all these people were from Serpent's Hold. Not one of the deceased was unknown to another. In one afternoon, some of these people had lost their entire families.

Finally, I stepped towards the pyre. I could feel no heat, so I was probably much closer than someone living could comfortably stand before I turned to face the Britannians. I hadn't intended to speak, but I'd come to realise that by my words, I could heal people in another fashion.

"Sacrifice...hath two symbols: The Flame of a candle that doth continuously give of itself to provide others with light, just as these men and women gave of themselves in the act of saving Britannia - in the act of giving others a chance of life; and a Teardrop. At the moment, tears are all we can give to them in return, and compared to their sacrifice, ours may seem worthless. But consider where we are. In this land, every drop of water, every tear shed is as precious as diamonds. With each tear, ye give of your lives to those who have already given theirs. 

"Weep not overmuch, for they did not sacrifice themselves for us to die so soon and so far from Britannia. They died that ye might live. They died that Britannia might be saved. So while we might never forget that they gave their lives, neither must we forget _why_...and neither must we let their deaths be in vain. 

"This is the Truth - that they came to this place with Courage and for Love of their land and people. In your hearts, never let these flames die...and they will never die...Britannia will never die."

As a breeze blew over the desert, the ashes were lifted into the air like a grey veil. For a minute they hung low in the sky, swirling and shifting. Then the breeze came again and the Britannian ashes were scattered across the red desert of an alien world.

***

The next day, the Britannians started to die. Despite every precaution that was taken to shelter from the sun, the desert heat was a relentless foe that, unlike the sand serpents, couldn't be fought off. It sapped their strength and leeched away the water in their bodies. The light glared against the harsh, red sand in a way that made every mirage look like a river of blood. The wind was hot and dry, evaporating sweat or the moisture in one's mouth in an instant, so that one couldn't so much as spit. Sand was like fire to walk on after a mere two hours of sunshine. Not a few people suffered burned, bloodied feet after walking off barefoot to relieve themselves.

The water supply was stretched perilously thin, even under the strict rationing that had been implemented to spare Richard and the dragon from having to expend all their energies in replenishing it.

It was this day, the third, that Shamino said there was a sandstorm coming.

"I'm positive," he told me in a dry, harsh voice. "After being caught in two back on Britannia, I learned to recognise the signs. It's coming up from behind us, Elora, from the east." With a weary sigh, he closed his eyes and continued: "The wind is picking up. We're walking right in front of the storm, and unless it dies out it will catch us tomorrow night."

"What else can go wrong?" I muttered.

His expression mirrored my sentiments. "Unfortunately, there is something else. Footprints_._"

"Footprints?"

"They weren't made by any of us. Someone or _someones_ who are light of foot - they made almost no mark on the sand."

And they would have to be new, or the wind would have swept more sand over them and rendered them invisible. That meant whoever had made the prints had been there today. "How far away from the camp?"

"Not far. One or two dunes to our north."

"And what were you doing up there, anyway?" I demanded, my irritation at not having seen the owner of these tracks directed at him.

The corners of his mouth quirked up in a smile. Squinting at me, he said, "It's too damn hot to sleep." 

I shook my head and wove a Sleep spell around him. He looked surprised for a second, then slumped as his eyes rolled up. "Sorry," I said, catching him under the shoulders. "But if I don't do this you'll be too damn tired to _walk_." I half-carried, half-dragged him down into a dune's lengthening shadow, and, making sure his cloak was under him so no exposed skin touched the hot sands, laid him down.

Then I turned to find Katrina staring at me.

"I was just about to turn in-" she began hurriedly.

"I'm sure you were. What's up?"

"Nothing. Most of my flock are asleep. I came to see how thou art doing."

"Oh, fine," I said, starting off toward the north. As Katrina kept pace, I added, "Maybe this Undeath stuff isn't so bad. You know, I can't feel the heat, I don't get tired or thirsty... pretty handy considering our current situation. Then there's this matter of power." With a thought, I parted a dune in our path up the middle. The sheer walls of sand stood still for a minute before collapsing inward with a rushing sound of falling grains. "No limit to the number of spells I can cast. The ether is open to me and it's vast, Katrina. Infinite. The more I access it, the more I want to continue accessing it...just to find the ends of something that's endless-"

"How doth that make thee feel?" the shepherdess interrupted.

I walked on in silence for a while, aware that she was watching me closely.

"Afraid?" she asked finally, which was what I knew she'd wanted me to say.

"Not exactly. Sort of. Look, I've taken you on the magic carpet before, haven't I?"

"Yes."

"How did you feel when we did dips and loops?"

She smiled at the memory. "Excitement, some fear. It was the thrill of the ride that would make thee go on it again, even if it were the scariest thing thou hadst ever experienced."

"That's almost exactly what this is like. Excitement, some fear, though not nearly as much fun." I paused, then corrected myself. "No fun at all. And it's when I start to enjoy all this power that it'll be time for you and everyone else to run for your lives. Because then I'll be a liche at heart."

"No cares?"

"Only for more power."

"And your friends?"

My mind turned back to the conversation I'd had with the liche on Ambrosia. "I'd hate you because you're alive. I'd hate you because you'd fear me since I'm undead. I'd hate you because you'd abandon me, even though it would be at my request."

"But not now?"

I blinked - a gesture of surprise, nothing more. "No, of course not. Never, if I can help it. I just have to limit my magic before I get used to the idea of semi-omnipotence."

Katrina chuckled, shielding her eyes from the sun as we topped a dune on the northern perimeter of the camp.

"Virtues, isn't that a horrible thought?" I added. "What would I do with power like that?"

"Thou couldst kick the Guardian's big red behind, for one thing."

"_That _is something I could look forward to with great anticipation."

"And Mellorin?"

I pointed north-west where mountains rose beyond human sight. "I'll find a way to defeat her when I get up there. The dragon's people made these bracers. There must be some record about how to remove them."

"Didn't she say that only Mellorin can remove them?"

"She also said that she didn't know everything. There could be another way. Let's concentrate on getting to that oasis first, though, shall we?"

Her expression clouded. "Should we not make it by tomorrow-"

Firmly, I said, "We will."

_We have to_.

***

A full thirty people died of the heat or dehydration before the sun had set. Another nine suffered sunstrokes so severe that they were unable to continue. It was left to me to probe the mind of each, seeking any conscious thought that could answer one simple, terrible question: die now or be left behind? There was no other choice. The strength expended to carry them onward would only serve to slowly kill more people.

Not one person chose to be left to the mercy of the desert, and it again fell to me to end the lives of each. As I disconnected minds from bodies in a painless method of granting instant oblivion, it was all I could do to assure distraught families and friends that they were now at peace.

Hardest of all to deal with were the children and babies. They simply didn't have the endurance…

So the bodies of thirty-nine Britannians burned on the red sands two hours after the sun set. Those who remained continued west with the hope of water, food and shelter before them, all unwitting of the sandstorm chasing them from behind.

Richard and the dragon-woman walked with me at the head of the procession, though both were, for the most part, silent.

I only called one meeting that night. We had to decide whether or not to keep walking should we not reach the oasis and its settlement before sunrise.

"The problem isn't what damage the storm will cause should we be caught in it," the dragon said. "I'm sure that we three-" she nodded at Richard and me, "-could shield everyone from it easily enough. What worries me is how long it will last."

"Feels like a few days to me," Shamino supplied.

"And your humans won't last that long," the dragon said to me, seeming to accept Shamino's judgement without rancour for once.

"We wouldn't have to stop," Richard said. "We can make the shield move with us."

"Wonderful," she replied dryly. "And when we walk straight past our goal because we can't see it through the sand, then what?"

"Speaking of things we can't see," Shamino put in, "I found more footprints to our north just before. Someone who's not one of us was watching us yesterday. Neither Elora nor I have seen anything of them, save tracks."

"Doth anyone live in the desert?" Katrina asked the dragon, who was frowning. "Besides villagers, I mean?"

"Only the _mezzini_," she answered, her tone brooding and dark.

"What are _mezzini_?"

"They're humans. Wanderers. Desert nomads. Their people and mine were very close before the war. I think it unlikely that they're who we're dealing with. They'd have approached or challenged us by now." She shrugged. "Furthermore, they openly opposed the Guardian, as we did. Either the _mezzini_ are dead, or in service to _him_, which I very much doubt."

"'The enemy of my enemy is my friend,'" Iolo quoted. "Let's imagine that our watchers _are _these _mezzini_. Would they help us?"

"They would if I told them to."

"Why?"

"The _mezzini _used to serve our people in exchange for the education we could give them in lore and magic. It almost verged on open worship."

"Returning to our previous topic," I said. "What do we think? Keep walking when morning comes or rest as usual, then ride out the sandstorm when it blows over us?"

"Keep walking," Dupre and Shamino said in unison, though neither appeared to relish the notion. The others only nodded.

"Tell some of your people about the storm," I said, "but only those whom you think can take it. The others will see the truth soon enough."

Shamino nodded. "Dawn."

"Why tell anyone?" the dragon asked.

"Because they have a right to know," I answered. "Did anyone want to add anything?"

The dragon spoke again. "Yes. You might want to hide that." She pointed at the bracer. "Only one other person ever wore it. There are imitations out there - bracers are worn as status-symbols - but it will draw attention."

"Point taken."

"I have a question," Dupre said. He looked at the dragon. "What happens when we reach this village? Do we just march in?"

"They're used to it. Being marched _over_, that is. There won't be anyone to stop us if I'm right about the Guardian stripping the world of fighters. All you'll have to worry about is paying for food. Water has always been free."

"And we hope it still is," Katrina said.

The dragon dusted sand from her hands. "Agreed. Either way, you'll need funds. Neither food nor lodgings are free."

"What's the local currency?" Iolo asked curiously. "I wouldn't think they'd be interested in gold, living out here."

"You're right there. The only metals they deal in are bronze, iron and anything else strong enough to be forged into a weapon. What we need is jewels."

"Jewels?" Katrina exclaimed.

"They're just as impractical as gold!" Julia seconded.

Pausing in the act of wrapping my bracer with a strip of leather, I managed to say, "Maybe not," before the dragon could make a retort. Everyone looked at me and the half-concealed bracer, and got my drift.

The dragon said, "Jewels are a primary component in elven and human magic on Atarka. The size, cut and colour determine how much power they can hold - don't ask for specifics."

"Art thou saying the people on this world can't cast spells without jewels?" Richard asked.

"No. Only that spells cast from jewels cause their wielders no exertion. Useful if many high-power spells need to be cast in succession. They're always used out here to fend off the _shem'lysiei_."

Dupre was thoughtfully rubbing his thumb over the pommel of his sword. "Could steel hold magic? Like a sword?"

"Metals can be _enchanted_ - strengthened to lend accuracy and force, but they cannot contain actual _spells_."

"What about Elora's axe?" he protested.

"That had a ruby in the haft, remember?" she almost purred. "That jewel held the magic."

"Then it's jewels," I said. "Since we're almost out of time now, ask your groups for their..." I sighed. "...their valuables next time. If they ask why, tell them the truth."

"And if they refuse?" Katrina asked. "We'll be appropriating wedding rings, here."

"If they're adamant about not giving up their jewellery, send them to me. I'll try and explain to them that when we reach this village, they have a choice of eating food or choking down their gemstones."

There was a pause, then Richard pulled off his signet ring - a silver band set with a flat oval of sapphire into which was engraved the serpent of Britannia. "Might as well make a start," he said as he held it out to me.

"No regrets?" I asked.

The others began searching themselves for jewellery as the monarch shrugged. "It's just a ring. It'd be different if I had to part with my Amulet."

"You're a mage," the dragon said suddenly. "May I?" she extended her hand for the ring and I gave it to her.

"I thought you gave that away," I said as Katrina handed me a locket.

"I did." Her expression turned sad. "Henry and Constance were both killed on the ship that sailed from New Magincia to the Isle of Fire. Sea Serpents."

"Ah. I'm sorry."

"I don't think they even felt it. The fireball hit them full-on." She looked at Julia. "Didst thou have trouble sailing to and from the Den?"

"None - excepting those Virtues-damned pirates." The tinker gave me a steel circlet set with a thumb-sized emerald as she went on about her trade venture.

"What are you looking for?" I asked the dragon, for she was looking at the ring with intense concentration.

"Some of my kind had a theory that other races couldn't transfer raw mana into jewels because they don't live long enough."

Richard said, "I've only had this ring for fifty years."

"Oh." She gave me back the ring. "You don't have anything a little older?" she asked hopefully.

"My serpent Amulet, but it's metallic."

"What about _my _ring?" Iolo interrupted, offering a gold band set with a small diamond.

"Gwenno will murder thee for this," Shamino said with a snicker.

The bard gave him an ominous look. "Only if someone doth _tell _her about it." His blue eyes became distant. "For the first time, I'm actually glad she's not in Britannia."

Dupre clapped him on the shoulder. "She'll be fine."

Iolo looked dubious, but nodded. He was probably remembering that dream the Guardian had sent him about Gwenno being in great danger, I thought. "Shamino," he said suddenly. "Hast thou any word on Amber?"

The ranger's face turned bleak. "No. I can only hope she stayed on at Trinsic when Lord Draxinusom evacuated Britain."

The dragon passed me Iolo's ring.

"Anything?" I asked.

She shrugged and shook her head.

"What do you mean by raw mana, anyway?"

"Raw mana is raw mana, Avatar. Pure, magical energy. A gem can be used to store it. Such a stone can be used to aid in casting a spell that would normally exhaust its caster. The village won't use them that way, however. They can't. As far as I know, only my kind can charge jewels, and only over long periods of time."

"Speaking of time," I said.

Everyone fell silent.

"It's time to go."

This was it - the last leg of our race against the desert. No more rests, not even should dawn come before we reached the oasis.

It was all or nothing.

_Virtues be with us_.

***

Only a few protested about the jewellery. For some, a ring was all they had left to remember a loved one. With as much gentleness as I could, I informed each that should they not surrender their gems, chances were they'd be _joining _their loved ones. And others would follow. Replies were bitter, tearful, and generally unhappy. What made it worse was that some of them seemed to believe that I could make everything better with a wave of my hand. They even asked why I didn't do as much. I could only say that making everything better would require a lot more effort, which resulted in people returning to their groups in a mood more bitter than the one they'd come to me in.

People would lose heart before they lost their lives.

"I so wish I could just teleport everyone back to Britannia," I muttered to Richard. "Half of them are probably thinking that death in battle would be a better fate than _this_. Even I am."

"The Guardian's army...taketh prisoners...remember?" the monarch said in a faltering voice as he walked at my side. "We'd probably...suffer worse than...this."

"_I'm sorry_," I thought to him. "_I shouldn't be adding my worries to your own_."

"Thinkest thou...I have not worried about...the same things?"

"Of course not. It's just..." I sighed. "I wish I could do more. Or do better."

His cracked lips formed a small smile. "Thou'rt doing more...than any of us could."

"You don't think they'd have followed _you_?" I asked with some surprise.

"They might, but not with as much conviction as they follow thee. Thou art the Avatar," he added simply, as if that explained everything.

I said nothing, but thoughtfully brushed one finger against the Ankh as the sky above us grew lighter. The stars vanished one by one, the five moons followed. In this time before the sun topped the horizon behind us, the red sands were almost dark enough as to appear black.

"Look," the dragon-woman murmured as we reached the top of yet another dune.

The last dune.

What lay before us now was an expanse of desert as flat as a sword-blade. Sand as far as the eye could see, but there were mountains in the distant west. Snow-capped peaks reflecting sunlight we couldn't yet see, the bright glitter of cold, white ice standing out sharply against the still-dark sky.

"I don't see any villages," Richard observed as he stumbled down the dune's western side.

"Nor I," I said softly. And I'd searched for it from the sky every day.

"It shouldn't be much further," the dragon assured us, though her golden eyes weren't as certain as her voice.

Richard upended his waterskin. Not a drop fell from it. "I hope not." There was not even the faintest glimmer of accusation in his eyes, and perhaps that's why the dragon-woman was forced to avert her gaze.

I knew we didn't have another choice but to trust she was right.

We kept walking.

The sun rose up like a burning eye once more. The heat hammering on the backs of the Britannians caused our pace to slow to a crawl. Already weary from lack of rest and nutrition, they plodded after my lead without speaking. No one could talk. Opening one's mouth was to invite the sun to evaporate what little moisture their bodies retained. The only sound was that of boots on sand. That noise never stopped. Sometimes I thought I could hear the Guardian chuckling softly in every footstep.

"_Do you know where we are_?" I thought to the sky. "_I bet you do. And as long as you're enjoying the show, you won't change the channel. As long as we stay here, you won't do anything_."

This time there was no mistaking the deep, sinister laugh. Apparently, I wasn't the only one who heard it, either. Richard jerked his head up sharply, defiance in his eyes. The dragon merely glanced at me with one brow raised.

"_We'll win, Guardian. We'll beat you yet. Watch us_."

Now everyone heard the laugh. The people paused in their steady march to look around for the sound's source, but there was nothing to see.

No...wait...a gleam of metal over there...

"Richard," I began warningly.

"Halt, intruders!"

As if by magic, a group of robed figures rose from the sand. Their clothes matched the desert's colours perfectly, and they were armed.

"_Mezzini_!" the dragon whispered to me. Quickly! Tell everyone to sit, hands open and palms up on either knee. It is... it _was_ the accepted symbol of peaceable intent."

I quickly evaluated our chances in a fight before conceding. As I relayed the dragon's words to my companions, who'd give them to their groups, she added, "There are more _mezzini_ out there than you think. All they need is a pile of desert sand and they can vanish."

"Will they attack us?" I asked, slowly lowering myself to the ground.

"I don't know."

The exhausted Britannians sat on the burning sand, shielding themselves and each other as best they could with what remained of cloaks and clothing.

"Avatar," the dragon whispered as the desert people came nearer, "you might want to incorporate some dirt into your illusion - or at least a sunburn. You don't look like you've been in the Krain Desert for more than an hour."

I nodded and instantly acquired a nice red tint to my skin.

"Who is _thra_ of this company?" demanded one of the _mezzini_.

"I assumes that means 'leader'?" I whispered to the dragon.

"It's close enough," she replied, seemingly unconcerned. "It means the same as 'lord' or 'lady'; someone in whom others have put their trust."

I stood up. "I am _thra._"

The nomad stepped forward, spear pointed in my direction as one hand pulled back the sand-coloured cloth wrapped around the lower half of their face. The full sight of it verified what my ears had guessed from the stranger's voice. The nomad was a woman. "What is thy business in the _shem'o'krain_, intruder?"

"We seek a desert village we thought was nearby."

Several of the nomads behind her broke into laughter. The woman before me showed no change in expression. "No village hath existed in the Krain for many years," she replied, her tone flat and distinctly unfriendly. "And no one but my people have dared to attempt crossing it on foot in five times as long. Where dost thou hail from, stranger?"

"Most recently, the...ah..._Telomar_ of Silence-"

"Guardian _oraini_!" she snarled, her spear coming down to level with my chest. Her people moved as one to ready their own weapons - spears, short bows and throwing knives for the most part. "Thou _dare_st-"

"We are enemies of the Guardian," I interrupted, gambling everything in one throw. This was one of the Guardian's worlds, after all. I could only hope that the _mezzini_ still opposed the Guardian as they had when the dragon-woman had lived here. "We came here fleeing the armies of his former _Ka-thra_ Mors Gotha."

She lifted her spear in a swift movement to rest beneath my chin. Instantly, there was the rasp of metal as the Britannias strove to draw weapons.

"Stop," I commanded, still watching the nomad.

"That is impossible," she said. "We had word that Mors Gotha's army went to another world."

"So they did," I agreed, feeling the point of the spear touch my throat with every word. "Britannia - the world we are from! We came to this place in particular seeking information about a certain item possessed by Mors Gotha. The knowledge can be found in the Dragonlore."

"You have a daemon in your company."

"Horffe is no daemon. Look at him closely - there are many differences. On Britannia his kind are called gargoyles. They are a good, strong, loyal people."

"It is no assurance, intruder. Daemons are capable of changing their form to anything remotely humanoid if it will suit their needs."

"All I have told thee is true. Right now, we search for a village with water, but our goal is the caves of the dragons and the Dragonlore."

"Then thou art doubly a liar," she replied coldly. "For how couldst thou know this unless either thou art in league with the Guardian or a dragon told thee? And there _are_ no dragons."

"Thou art wrong," I said.

The dragon-woman suddenly shimmered a brilliant gold. With a vast roar her form changed, growing larger and longer and more magnificent with each passing second. Glistening wings stretched out and shielded the Britannians from the sun's glare as her head rose up upon a sinuous neck, her mane of golden spines glittering and her eyes blazing as she roared again. Her long tail stirred up a cloud of sand as her red-scaled foreclaws came down, one on either side of me in a very obvious gesture of protection.

The _mezzini_ surrounding us all let out a great cry and fell to their knees. Only the one before me remained standing, though her expression showed no less wonder. Lowering her spear, she stared straight up into the dragon's burning eyes. "_Kra'lysie,_" she breathed reverently. "_Kemah-thra_...it hath been so long!"

"Assist these who travel with me, _Mezzin-thra_," the dragon said. Although it was a whisper, the ground beneath us rumbled at her words. "They are under my protection and thou shalt aid them in all ways possible. Heed the words of this creature," she went on, lowering her head to look at me, "for they _are_ true."

"Yes, _Kra'lysie_!" The nomad's words were completely without fear. There was awe in them, adoration even. "_Mezzini_! _Quan_!"

The desert people leaped to their feet and rushed to the tired, footsore Britannians with water-skins. I watched the people drink their first mouthful of water all day...and remembered what hope was.

"It is a short walk north to our camp, _Kra'lysie_," the leader advised. "We won't have enough water for all thy people just here."

"I understand, _Mezzin-thra_. It would be wise to move on in any case. The sandstorm..."

She nodded, then regarded me. "This one is _thra_ of thy company?"

The dragon chuckled. "This one is such, _Mezzin-thra_. She is the Avatar."

A couple of nearby _mezzini_ seemed startled at that, but their leader simply nodded. "That would explain my mother's dreams the past several nights." She inclined her head slightly and touched her right hand to her heart. "Welcome, Avatar. We are honoured."

"Thou hast heard of me?" I asked.

"Legends, for the most part. But my mother claims to have met thee. We can speak of these things later. It would be best if we leave the open desert as soon as possible." She nodded her head meaningfully in the direction of the approaching storm. "I am given the name Jae'tar. _Kra'lysie_, Avatar, if your people would follow mine we can reach a place of safety."

The dragon resumed her human form as I telepathed the news to my friends. "_It's fine. The _mezzini_ are taking us to a place where we can rest and shelter_."

"_Thank the Virtues_," whispered Iolo's voice.

"_How far_?" Julia asked.

"_Not far. We're headed north. Can you get everyone ready_?"

A mental murmur of assent came to me. A short while later, everyone was getting up and preparing to move.

The _mezzini_ replaced their face-cloths and spread out around us, ready to assist anyone who faltered. Jae'tar and the dragon walked in the lead together, talking softly. I followed with Richard. The Lord of Britannia managed a smile as I got his arm around my shoulder.

"_I'm not an invalid yet, Elora_."

"_I know. I'm just making sure that you're not one _later."

"_What dost thou make of our dragon_?"

"_She's said that her people were once served by the mezzini. I think that means 'wanderers', by the way_."

"_And '_Kra'lysie'?"

"'Shem'lysie'_ means 'sand serpent' and '_kra'_ means 'fire'. Fire serpent_?"

"_Dragon. I'm wondering what 'Avatar' meaneth to them. Didst thou see their reactions to thine identity_?"

"_Yep. It means 'spirit-soul', which in turn means 'life'. She told me earlier._"

He lapsed into silence and concentrated on walking. A few minutes later, the dragon-woman and Jae'tar fell back to walk with us. As we went, the nomad leader began to talk.

"According to our histories," she began, "Atarka was once a free world much like thy Britannia. Our peoples lived in relative peace and the Guardian was unheard of. We who wandered the Krain, the _mezzini_, sought out the _kra'lysiei_, who dwelt in the northern Tuay Mountains, because of the shamaness with us at the time. Not one of her prophecies had failed, and this one involving the _kra'lysiei_ told us that one day a dragon would save the world from a deadly evil. Without our assistance, however, she said the prophecy would fail.

"The dragons accepted us, but wouldn't allow our self-bestowed servitude to go unrewarded. In exchange for our service and protection against dragon-slayers - for they would not even kill to save their own lives - they taught us their magic.

"Much time passed and we continued to live thus, both races happy with the arrangements binding them together. Then, one fateful day, a Voice spoke to those who meditated at the _Telomar _of Silence. This silent speaker called himself the Guardian. The druids obeyed his words without question - they cut out their own tongues so they could not speak then went out from the Krain, proclaiming the Guardian's call to submit to his authority with their _minds_. That common humans suddenly acquired the power of telepathy was so great a wonder that many flocked to the various _telomari_, eager to be initiated and to gain this knowledge. It was found that a different power was bestowed at each different _telomar_. Some of our own people joined in order to verify this, and we think that's how the Guardian learned of the prophecy concerning the dragons.

"It wasn't long until the command came to wipe out all _kra'lysiei_, who were then branded daemons, on Atarka. Most were too deep in their adoration of the Guardian to have the willpower to refuse. They came against the dragon caves in force, but the _mezzini_ were able to repel and defeat them with each assault. Then the outworlders came. Led by a woman called Mors Gotha, they and the Guardian's followers on Atarka attacked with renewed strength. We fought well, but their numbers never lessened. The Guardian was forever calling _more _of his fighters into Atarka to replace any killed.

"At length, the dragons ordered us to flee the Tuay Mountains and return to the Krain. We refused at first, convinced that only the dragons could stop the Guardian, but they reminded us of our oath to obey them in all things.

"'Leave us to our fate,' they said, 'it is not finished yet. Live in the land that birthed ye, but never give up the fight against the Guardian. Protect the Lore from his people and always remember us.'

"So we hid the Dragonlore in the caves and fled into the Krain. With enchanted weapons, we fell upon every Guardian-serving city, village or household within our desert, razing each to the sands. Such was the fate of _Telsen Shemquan_ - the village thou wert seeking. In fact, thou didst pass over its very location. Its ruins and water have long since been buried by sandstorms.

"Then came a day, months after we left the dragon caves, that my people saw a speck in the sky. At first, we thought '_Kra'lysie_!' because nothing could be so high nor so large. A whole clan of us went north to meet it. They were all killed. It was no dragon, as we later discovered, but a keep. One of the two places we hadn't managed to destroy. Killorn Keep."

I gave a start and stared at her. "Killorn Keep? The keep that floats above the desert? The one ruled by a Lord Thibris?"

Jae'tar nodded, and I looked at her as if seeing her for the first time. The dark skin and eyes... I suddenly knew who her mother was.

"Thou art Altara's daughter?"

She nodded again, but returned to the topic of Killorn Keep. "By the will of the Guardian it flieth. Those within can rain down arrows on us should we seek to pass by, and we cannot touch it. When we saw its stone hulk drifting above the desert, and no dragons soaring the skies, we knew they were gone." Then she looked at the dragon-woman. "Or we thought we knew."

"_Kra'lysie_?" I telepathed to the dragon.

"_It means 'dragon_'."

"_I thought as much. Would you mind if we used it as your name_?"

Her eyes twinkled above the face-cloth she wore. "_So instead of calling me 'Dragon' in your tongue_-"

I rolled my eyes and sighed.

"_It's fine, Avatar_," she replied, her thought-voice amused. "_I don't mind._"

Jae'tar suddenly stopped and removed her face-cloth. After a long, satisfied sort of look, she gave me an unexpected smile. "Welcome to the camp of the _mezzini_, _Kra'lysie_ and Avatar." Extending her spear, she held it out in the air to point at the empty sand flats before us. I said nothing, for the air around the spearhead began to ripple like a pond. Shimmering circles widened around the point, and in the tiny waves I thought I could see more than sand.

"A shield," Richard murmured. "I've never seen one that hideth things from both naked- and mind's-eye!"

"Merely one facet of _Kra'lysie_ magic," the nomad leader said. "This one hath become invaluable."

"_Shem'al_?" Kra'lysie asked.

"No. _Orelay'strak_."

The dragon-woman frowned slightly. "I'm not familiar with that substance. Darkstone?"

"The Guardian _oraini_ call it Blackrock. It's the most powerful stone available, and it appeared after Atarka was overrun. Let's get thy people a place to rest 'ere we talk further." She pushed back the sleeve of her robe on her right arm to reveal a bracer similar in design to mine, though the body looked to be metallic - bronze. She touched a jet-black stone and traced a design in the air with her spear. There was a whisper of ether and the air rippled with more vigour, then I felt the entire southern wall of the shield fall away.

"Get everyone inside," Jae'tar called as she moved forward to pass between two blackrock obelisks.

I couldn't help spending a minute to gape before following, helping Richard down the stone steps encircling the perfectly round perimeter of what appeared to be a crater...and in which an entire village nestled. Stone houses, canvas tents and fenced paddocks abounded around the edges, but the first thing to catch my eyes was the _colour_. Enclosed by the outer circle of houses was a wide ring of grass. Fresh and green and healthy. Fruit trees were here and there, and a large pool of silver water could be seen in the middle of it all, around which was the garden and then the buildings. Thin, straight streams ran from the pool in each of the four main directions of the compass. When they reached the outer edge of the garden they stopped and flowed out at a slightly curved, perpendicular angle to join the end of another stream. This formed a large unbroken ring of water with four separate quadrants of grass and trees and living plants.

"It's cooler here," Richard said, and he straightened as though feeling revived.

"The shield that hideth us doth serve in more ways than one," Jae'tar explained. She looked back as we reached the bottom of the steps to wait for everyone to get in. "It also protecteth us from the heat - most weather factors, actually - and reduceth the sun's glare."

"Thou didst use our gifts with wisdom," Kra'lysie said. "This place is a haven."

"Many protested," the _mezzin_ replied with a hint of bitterness. "They thought this-" she indicated the entire area, "-would make us weak. Harsh conditions breed stronger people." She touched her bracer and the shield went back up. "Come. We'll go to the lake and thy people can be refreshed."

***

The _mezzini_ called this place _Shem Mezzin'draco_, which meant 'Sand Camp', and it was the only stationary home the nomads had in the entire desert. As anyone who looked at it could guess, magic had played a large part in its creation. Eight blackrock pillars stood around the circumference of the site and I knew they were used for the shields. No one could tell me how the pillars had got to where they now were.

When the sandstorm struck, we barely noticed. I'd heard not a whisper of wind to announce its coming, so it was only after I looked up, late afternoon, and saw a hazy, shifting orange glow instead of the blue sky that I knew. By that time, the Britannians were already resting indoors having eaten, drunk and had any wounds tended to. Everyone had had their feet bathed and bandaged due to the ravages of our desert trek. Even Kra'lysie and I, though my blisters and burns were all illusionary.

So as afternoon darkened into night, I spent my time alone in a small house and brooded on what would happen next. Jae'tar had steadfastly refused to tell me anything else until after I'd had a good long rest. Not being able to sleep, however, resting became a frightful bore. Brooding was the easiest alternative.

We were presently safe. So long as I didn't teleport and break the shields, chances were Mellorin wouldn't find us (provided she was still looking). What was more, the _mezzini_ would be able to direct us to the Dragonlore and I'd finally find a way to get rid of the bracer. But then I thought, _Why just do that? You're on one of the Guardian's worlds, Elora - Killorn Keep! Maybe you can find out some of the Guardian's plans_...

"That's a rather good idea," I murmured to myself. Furthermore, I was fairly certain that the bracer could teleport me straight to the keep. Otherwise how had Mors Gotha got there so fast? I pondered this for a while, then grew bored again. Dispensing with the pretence of being footsore and weary, I got up, dressed in the _mezzin_ robe and boots that had been left for me, retained my daggers and left my small house.

There wasn't much activity outside - the time being midnight and all. A few _mezzini_ were about, but none gave me more than a cursory glance. It was easy to tell that I was not one of them since my skin was a lot fairer, and I was somewhat surprised that no one challenged me. After a while I felt a calm sense of understanding. I was being anticipated. Someone was waiting for me. Someone I knew, though they were not Britannian.

I reached the garden in the centre of the camp and paused to let my senses drink in the sights, scents and sounds of the place. No light came from the darkened dome covering Sand Camp, but the grass was dotted with small clumps of tiny berries that glowed a pale green. I kept walking until I stood at the edge of the pool in the garden's heart. At my approach, a figure standing on the surface of the water turned and came towards me.

"Altara," I greeted her, and she smiled. "When thou didst leave Killorn Keep, I had no idea I'd see thee here."

"Who knew we'd _ever_ meet again?" the dark-haired mage replied. "I returned to my people, as thou canst see." She stepped onto dry ground and looked at me carefully. "I know thou didst succeed in thy quest to unravel the web the Guardian had spun between the planes, so why hast thou returned?"

I considered my reply and decided to answer her question with one of my own. "What hath Kra'lysie told thee?"

Altara shook her head. "Little. Enough that we know she deemeth herself under thy command, and thus she won't speak of thine intentions without permission. Permission! I don't know _what _thou hast done, Avatar, but a _kra'lysie_ bending knee to a mortal is unheard of."

"She's not _that _submissive," I murmured. I made up my mind not to tell her I was undead. If Atarkans treated them like the plague - a version of it that could be killed with weapons and magic, - admitting it might not be a good idea. The _mezzini_ hadn't had access to the Dragonlore in who knew how long, so chances were they'd have no memory of _aeth'raesh'ali_. That said, they'd most likely try to kill me before I could explain it to them. "Kra'lysie is guiding us to the Dragonlore," I said at last. "We need information on an object called an _aeth'raesh'al_."

"_Aeth'raesh'al_," Altara said softly. She frowned. "I know its meaning, but am unfamiliar with such an object."

"Mors Gotha had one. It was in the form of a jewelled bracer."

"I _knew_ there was something strange about that bracer. I could feel it!"

I hoped she couldn't feel it _now_. True, the bracer was covered, but that wouldn't mask the sensation of magic. Or undeath. "I'm hoping to find a way to destroy it in the Dragonlore."

Altara nodded. "I can help thee a little. Come." She started to lead the way back to the city area. "My people have been unable to approach the Tuay Mountains where the caves are since Killorn Keep took its first flight. I have been closer than any other _mezzin_ in some time, but not even my rank on the High Council could get me closer."

"Didst thou _want _to be sent to Killorn?" I asked.

"Not initially. There are other ways to get to the mountains - airships and _shem'lysie_ barges. It was carelessness on my part that got me sent to Killorn." She shrugged. "Anything I did after that I had to keep secret. I was always being watched. I learned one thing," she added with a short laugh. "The keep can only be brought down from within. I was too afraid of being caught or killed to attempt anything. I had a duty to return to my people. I am one of the last great shamanesses left among my people - the only ones gifted with magic and high visions."

I raised a brow at her.

"I dreamed thou wouldst come back, Avatar, and I dreamed thou wouldst tear Killorn Keep from the sky and free us from the Guardian."

I didn't reply for a while. "Mine obligation is to Britannia first and foremost," I said slowly, watching her for any reactions. "Thou must understand that _my _duty is to _them_."

"I do." She smiled. "But I'm never wrong, Elora. I never have been." She waved a hand dismissively. "Thou shalt see."

"I don't like visions," I muttered darkly. "They make me feel I don't have a choice."

"They shouldn't," she answered. "Look. If I said, 'I saw someone drowning and thou didst run to the rescue,' what wouldst thou think?"

"I'm not sure... If I saw someone drowning I _would _try to save them."

"Thou seest? A vision hath nothing to do with predestination, but with foreknowledge. It doth not control thee, it just knoweth what thou wouldst do given the situation."

"So what's the situation with thine other vision?"

"I don't know. I just know what thou wilt do!" Altara smiled again. "Knowing thee, however, I'm sure it will be the right choice."

***

The house Altara led me to was on the north side and quite close to a path leading up between two of the blackrock obelisks to the outside world. The stone door opened soundlessly to reveal a single square room. Even before Altara conjured a light I could see a carpet made of some kind of dark, fibrous hair covering the floor, a low bed against one wall and a stone table against another, and a map hanging above the table.

"Northern Atarka," Altara said as she gestured toward the map with one hand and closed the door with her other. "Well, most of it. The Northern Wasteland, rather."

The map looked old, but the dyes used for colour were still vivid. Names were written across locations in strange, glyph-like letters. As we'd seen on Kra'lysie's sand map, the Krain Desert was three-quarters circled on north, west and south sides by a large mountain range. I had no idea of scale, though, so I couldn't tell how large the desert really was.

"Didst thou want to have a closer look?" Altara asked presently.

I almost started. I'd been closely examining the map from all the way across the room. Nodding mutely, I stepped forward. This was the first time I'd unconsciously used 'long vision' for something that was relatively close. "Where are we?" I asked.

She touched the desert where it joined the inside edge of the mountains in the south-west. There was a square symbol there. "This is the Castle of Flames, capitol of Atarka. The only place besides Killorn Keep among the desert settlements we've been unable to destroy." Her finger travelled north-east into the desert. "This is our camp. About half a day's walk away."

"The Shrine of Silence?"

She pointed out a spot further east - about eight times the distance from the castle to the camp. "Around here. We don't know precisely where because it's shielded from our viewing magics. Four days walk."

"We took five."

"Thou hadst many people with thee, all of whom are unaccustomed to travelling a desert, yes?"

"Yes." Staring at the map, I felt a sense of relief that we'd trusted Kra'lysie and come west. East and north the Krain Desert stretched on, and south we would have come up against an escarpment and mountains.

Altara pointed at a spot north-west of the desert in the mountains. "The dragon caves are here. That's where the Lore is hidden."

"Thou didst mention an easier way to get there," I said, noting the great distance between here and the caves.

"Shouldst thou go to the Castle of Flames, thou couldst buy passage on an airship or barge to the caves." She paused. "In theory. I worked at the Castle for a while and never actually heard of someone doing this. People go to Killorn Keep or cities beyond the Krain and mountains..."

"But no one goes to the dragon caves."

She shook her head. "So be careful. Thou needest no suspicious eyes upon thee at the castle. The Imperial Family liveth there, so if Killorn is the heart of the Guardian's military here, then Krain Castle is the heart of his power."

"I'll attract enough attention merely bringing all my people," I mused. "I don't suppose… I mean, if only a _few_ of us went, could the rest of us stay here?"

"The desert is not an easy land to live off," she replied gravely. "Once the sandstorm hath ended we will be short of supplies, and thy people will not be able to help us replenish our stores. We could shelter them… but sustaining them would be difficult. However, Avatar, the distance between here and the Castle of Flames is not great. Furthermore, the number of people with thee can be worked to thine advantage. 

"Thou wilt only arouse suspicions if all thy people are under arms. Warriors are currently a rarity in Atarka because of the war. Shouldst thou appear at the castle with thine own private army, thou wilt either be marked deserter and put to death, or enemy and put to death."

"Wonderful. Art thou saying we must enter enemy territory unarmed?"

"Thou hast around four hundred people, Elora. All bearing weapons, the Empress will have every right to believe thou'rt invading. I'd advise reducing that number to a hundred. That's a believable number for an escort of a group this large. Keep any more weapons out of sight."

"Escort? What kind of idiot - nomads notwithstanding - would want to walk across the desert?"

She smiled. "Pilgrims who seek the Guardian's _telomari_, of course."

"Hm. They'll still see that we're warriors."

"Act inept. One who carries a sword doth not necessarily know how to use it. Only the leader and his or her subordinates are expected to know what they're doing."

I held back a groan. Almost everyone with me was from Serpent's Hold, so _all _of them could use a weapon of some kind. Even their babies were practically born with a sword in their tiny hands. I hoped we had some good actors.

"Which bringeth me to notice thou hast no sword," Altara observed. "Or axe."

"I lost mine axe in a fight with a sand serpent. I believe it was swallowed," I added blandly.

She looked impressed. "Thou didst slay a sand serpent? That is quite a feat." 

"How dost thou know I killed it?"

"Thou'rt here, aren't thou?" She smiled, then faced the map. "Some of the Dragonlore we took with us when we left the caves. Not books or scrolls or tablets, but weapons and artefacts. One is a sword of power - a power we no longer know the meaning of. It is thine."

"Thou art giving it to me? Why?"

"A _thra _needeth a good weapon, and this is the best we have. I know thou art worthy to bear it, Avatar, and the _kra'lysie_ hath reaffirmed that belief."

"Thank thee," I managed, unable to think of anything else to say.

Altara brushed back her black hair with one hand. "Thou'rt welcome. I'll give it to thee tomorrow, if thou mindest not. I'm starting to feel tired."

"Of course. And don't worry about me; I can find my own way back."

She looked at me quizzically. "How art thou feeling?"

"What meanest thou?" I returned, trying to sound casual.

"Well, for someone who hath just emerged from the Krain Desert, thou seemest...fine."

"To tell thee the truth, Altara," I said with a wry smile, "I feel pretty much dead. I think it would be a good idea for me to turn in as well."

She nodded and smiled again. "Very well. I'll see thee tomorrow. _El sa vak ma orelay'ah_."

I blinked at her.

"Pleasant dreams," she translated with a grin. When my expression went flat, her smile faded. "Did I say something wrong?"

"Not...exactly. I used to hear the Guardian's Voice. He always said 'Pleasant dreams.'" I tried to shrug it off. "Just a bad memory."

"Oh. I'm sorry." She looked uncomfortable. "If it maketh thee feel better, the literal interpretation is 'Light be in the darkness.' It's dark when one closes one's eyes to sleep. We say this in hope that the dreams sleep bringeth are not dark as well. That's all I meant."

"'Light be in the darkness,'" I said softly. "I like that. Thank thee." Once outside her house I paused to decide where exactly I wanted to go next. I couldn't tell what time it was (though my instincts said it was still very early in the morning), and I didn't relish the idea of sitting alone doing nothing.

I headed for the garden and, finding it empty, continued south to where the Britannians were housed. When I reached the buildings I stopped again. I didn't want to disturb my friends' sleep, but I just felt so..._bored_. That in turn made me feel incredibly guilty. Why should I consider waking them just because I was lonely?

Then I realised that a part of me was afraid of what I might do when I had nothing to do. What did liches do with their spare time?

_You are not a liche_, I thought to myself. _Yet_, I couldn't help adding in my mind. Irritated more than anything else, I went to the closest of my friends' houses, Shamino's, and knocked softly on the door. When there was no answer, I opened it a crack and peered in. It was empty and the bed unslept in. Dupre's place was next, so I closed the door and went there.

"Who is it?" the knight's voice whispered when I knocked.

"Me."

The door opened and I could see Iolo sitting inside as Dupre stood aside for me to enter. "There thou art!" he whispered, grinning. "Iolo checked thine house but couldn't find thee. Is Shamino with thee?" He looked past me.

"No," I said, coming inside. "He wasn't in his house. What is this, a social get-together?"

Julia and Katrina were also inside. They, like Iolo, were seated on dark rugs around a low table with what appeared to be a deck of cards. All of them had their legs stretched out and their feet bandaged.

Dupre shut the door as Julia said, "We were bored. Nights, and days, are longer here, remember? We've been in bed for over twelve hours!" She lowered her voice. "Not to say that others aren't sleeping."

"Richard?" I guessed, and she nodded. "Well, he's earned it."

"Pull up a rug," Dupre said. He limped to his bed and sat on the edge, picking up his cards. "Hit me."

Katrina slid him a card from the top of the deck. He picked it up, grinned and turned over his hand. "By the Abyss, I've done it again. Virtuous flush of Swords: Avatar, Truth, Love and Courage!"

The others threw in their cards with various expressions of disbelief and good-humoured disgust.

"Good thing we're not placing bets," Iolo noted. "Elora, care to join in?"

I shook my head. "I can read your cards, so it wouldn't be fair."

They looked disappointed. Julia said, "Dupre, thou didst not just happen to have also brought along a chessboard from Britannia, didst thou?"

He chuckled. "Sorry, Julia."

"I'm fine," I said. "I'll just watch. It beats sitting in my room doing nothing!"

"How?" Julia asked dryly. "Now thou'rt sitting in _Dupre's _room doing nothing."

"At least it's not by myself here."

They smiled and got on with their game. Iolo dealt two cards each. "Don't give anything away, Elora!" he said.

"Trust me."

He gave me a look of mock-disgust before examining his hand. "I hate it when someone says that," he muttered.

Dupre let out a short bark of laughter, falling silent when the bard glared at him. "Thou didst say exactly the same thing when thou wert challenged to shoot an apple from a child's head with thy crossbow."

Iolo shuddered. "I hated it then, too." He passed Julia a card. "I never would have pulled such a stunt had I a choice."

"When was this?" I asked.

"Blackthorn's time. I got caught in Yew buying supplies."

"You hit the apple, I hope."

"Of course! What dost thou take me for?"

"Did it split in two?" Katrina asked curiously.

"With a crossbow bolt?" Iolo exclaimed, both eyebrows shooting up. He quickly lowered his voice as he realised he'd been speaking too loud. "No. It sort of exploded. Now look, if we're going to sit here trading stories, let's at least hear a good one." Laying his cards down, he reached back with both hands and pulled up the hood of the _mezzin_ robe he wore. His weathered, white-bearded face was immediately plunged into shadows, save his eyes. The light of the single candle on the table made his blue eyes glitter. The old bard drew himself up where he sat and clasped both hands before his darkened face, elbows on the table. "Hearken," he said in a voice that was both soft and compelling. "Hearken ye to this tale of Valour. From the deepest recesses of the Abyss this beast came into fair Britannia - a great sea serpent with blue-green scales and eyes like white fire. Miraki - 'Water Hawk' in the tongue of the gargoyles - mightiest of his kind. He had crushed more ships that he had years, drowned and devoured more men and women than he had scales on his lengthy body." Iolo parted his hands slowly until only his fingertips remained touching. Within the circle made by his fingers and thumbs a glowing white eye appeared, divided down the middle by the golden slash of a slitted pupil. Sea-green scales materialised around it as the bard drew his hands completely apart and spread them wide like a performing mage. As the illusion grew to incorporate a maw of gleaming, pointed teeth and yet more scales to form a gigantic head, Iolo said, "None sailed over his underwater lair unchallenged, yet one day he was intruded upon by a creature with such power as to give even him pause." Beside the vast image of the sea serpent's head appeared the almost pathetically small figure of a human. "A creature to be known as the Avatar." He waved both hands slightly and the illusions swirled, as though caught in a whirlpool, then vanished. "Her sailing vessel dropped anchor just off the Cape of Heroes, and it was there the mighty sea wyrm lived.

"'The serpent is here,' the Avatar proclaimed. 'I can feel it in my bones.'

"One of her companions, a handsome bard with-"

Dupre and Julia both snickered.

"-the glimmer of youth in his wise eyes," Iolo continued, ignoring them, "replied, 'Then we were not led astray. We shall put the monster to rest and rid the City of Honour of its presence.'

"A great spray of ocean water lashed the passengers and a huge wave rocked the ship they sailed. '_Put to rest_?' a monstrous voice roared. Quick as lightning, the serpent shot around the ship to embrace it in a single deadly coil. His neck reared up above the prow and the translucent fins lining his jaw trembled with rage. '_Put to rest_? _I_? _Miraki_? Presumptuous groundlings! How dare ye?'

"The Avatar's second companion, a burly paladin with an over-fondness for dark ale, said, 'Prithee, Elora, allowest me to issue a formal challenge to this overgrown wyrm and to throw down my gauntlet.'"

"'Prithee'?" Katrina whispered to Dupre.

The knight looked utterly blank. "I don't even know what that _meaneth_!"

"'Assuredly, Dupre,'" Iolo went on, grinning. "'Even as craven a beast as this deserveth an honourable challenge.' Thus spake the Avatar, so the paladin pulled off his right mail glove and tossed it to the deck.

"'I challenge thee to a duel, wyrm!' he shouted."

"Thou'rt kidding," Julia scoffed. "Not even Dupre would do something like that."

Dupre sighed deeply and hid his face behind his cards.

"'A duel?' Miraki answered, sounding puzzled. 'Why wouldst _thou_, a human, call _me _to single combat?'"

"Because he's stupid," Dupre's muffled voice said.

"'Because he's stup- stupendous,' the - er - Avatar said."

I grinned as Iolo tried to cover for his slip. Dupre lowered his cards, smirked, and executed a mocking half-bow.

Iolo leaned forward. "'Thou art on the quest of the Avatar,' the sea serpent growled. 'I would challenge _thee_. Shouldst thou triumph, I shall spare thy friends and leave those who sail these waters unharmed.'

"'It is a trick, Elora" the handsome bard warned. 'Trust not this evil wyrm!'

"'Fearest thou not, dear friend,' she returned. 'I shall triumph.'

"Her third companion, a lanky ranger, asked, 'How will such a duel be fought?'

"'As are all my duels,' Miraki hissed. His baleful eyes fixed on the Avatar's defiant face. 'Thou, and thou alone, hast five minutes to stop me from crushing this ship.' As he said this, he started to draw tight the coil around the hull.

"'I accept!' the Avatar thundered, and as timbers shrieked and buckled in the grip of the monster, she dove overboard to do battle."

"'Dove'?" Katrina murmured to me.

"Fell, actually."

She grinned.

"Her companions watched in horror as she vanished below the roiling waves," Iolo continued dramatically. "An eternity seemed to pass before they saw her again - clinging to the green-bronze spines sprouting down the sea serpent's thick neck!" He conjured another illusion of Miraki's massive head and neck, this time with my tiny form scaling his stiff spines as though they were the rungs of a ladder. "So light was her frame that Miraki didn't notice her until it was too late." The small Avatar jumped onto the broad bridge of Miraki's long nose, one hand drawing her sword, the other gripping a large handful of fins for balance.

"'Surrender or die!' the Avatar shouted, her gleaming blade pointing at one golden eye.

"Miraki's answer was to twist his neck so that his head was upside down! The Avatar, however, hung on to both sword and fin.

"'Surrender or die!' she shouted again, and slapped the flat of her weapon against his head. 'Last chance!'

"The sea serpent made one final attempt to dislodge her, but failed. 'I surrender,' he hissed, defeated, and uncoiled himself from around the ship. Lowering his head, he allowed the Avatar to jump back down to the deck of her ship where her friends greeted her with great cheering."

"No you didn't!" I protested.

"She humbly ignored it, however," Iolo swept on grandly, "and instead spoke to the sea serpent. 'The terms of thy freedom are that thou shalt never attack any human or human vessel unless they attack thee first. Dost thou understand?'

"'I do, Avatar,' Miraki answered, bowing his scaled head. 'I will honour mine oath. Never let it be said that Miraki is without Virtue.'

"'But how shall we prove that we defeated him?' Dupre asked. 'The citizens of Trinsic won't take thy word alone, Avatar.'"

Dupre shook his head sadly and I laughed. In reality, the knight had threatened to deck anyone who dared doubt my word.

"Miraki sank below the waves for a minute then returned with a scrap of blue-green scales as large as one side of a house. Putting it on the deck, he said, 'I shed my scales underwater every few years or so. This should convince them. There is also something else I possess that might interest thee. Thou art obviously on a quest to become the Avatar. Thou wilt need this in thy travels.' And from his maw dropped something that flashed like silver in the sun.

"The Avatar caught it. It was a magnificently fashioned horn of silver with an ivory mouthpiece. Across it were beautiful tracings of animals and humans and winged creatures. ''Tis a gift beyond price, Miraki,' she said. 'And it will definitely be useful. I thank thee.'

"'Thank thee for my life, Avatar. There are few who would be as compassionate to a sea serpent. Mayest thou become thy destiny!' Then he arched over, scales gleaming in the sun, and plunged down into the foaming sea with a great splash, never to be seen again." Iolo bowed his head to indicate the end of the story and we clapped as softly as we could.

"If it was the Age of Enlightenment," Julia pointed out critically, "and thou hadst not got the Silver Horn yet, then thou hadst not been to the Shrine of Humility. So how come everyone was calling Elora 'Avatar'?"

"They weren't," Iolo said. "It just soundeth better."

"But it's not historically correct!"

"Neither was half the story." He grinned. "Didst thou not know I embellish everything?" He turned over his cards. "New story. This one begins a long time ago before Britannia even existed. When the world was a dangerous place and Virtue unheard of. When great evil was abroad and a stranger appeared in the land, eyes wide at the sights and wonders of another world..."

I relaxed as my four friends dealt cards for a new game, leaning back into the soft rug and letting the sound of Iolo's voice drown out everything else. The light of the single candle danced across the walls and chased the shadows without pause, sinking the room into colours of dark gold and amber.

And I let my mind drift back to visit a place I hadn't been to in a long time.

The past.

***

The next day remained a day of rest for the Britannians. The sandstorm continued to rage in full force outside the protective dome, so we needed no urging to stay in the _mezzin _camp. Those who could walk inevitably decided to spend time in the strange garden at the heart of the camp. After a few minutes there, most could be seen walking around in a kind of daze - as if they were drunk on all the scents and colours of the place, as well as the sound of deliciously rippling water.

Lord British was no exception. He sat beneath one of the trees, back against the thick trunk and legs stretched out, a faintly bemused expression on his bearded face.

"Good morning," I said to him.

He smiled up at me. "It is, isn't it? What a wondrous place this is."

I sat down beside him and leaned against the tree. "Had I the inclination, I'd ask how they did it. They must have been using blackrock in their magic for a long time for their...techniques to be so sophisticated." I frowned pensively at the sand-clouded dome overhead. Enough light shone through that it seemed like day, but the temperature was pleasantly warm as opposed to the desert's usual scorching heat. "Did you notice the water? It looks the same as at that Shrine of Silence."

"Hm?" Richard blinked then looked at me. "Sorry, Elora, what didst thou say?"

I raised a brow at him and grinned. "Never mind. I won't spoil your morning with my worries."

His attention seemed caught by something else, so I gave up. "Sleep well?" I asked absently.

"He might as well still be asleep, Avatar," a new voice said from the other side of the trunk. The dragon-woman Kra'lysie looked around at me from where she was sitting. "He's on _kel'tara quan_. It's a drug."

"What for?" I exclaimed.

"To help repair the damage done by casting too many spells with too little rest. You _know _where that can lead to."

_Death_. I nodded. "Ok, then. Is that why he seems so..?"

"Absent-minded? You got it. Let's just say his brain is on a short and much-needed vacation. He'll get over it by tomorrow morning. I'm here with him so he won't wander off by himself. Oh, you might want to shift your sitting position every few minutes."

I gave her a blank look and she pointed at the grass I was sitting on. It was turning brown.

"The undead tend to have adverse effects on the living," she said clinically. "Just as anyone with magic in their veins feel their teeth are on edge while you're around, so will animals grow skittish and plants fade. I don't really want to explain to the _mezzini_ why their grass is withering." She lowered her voice. "Nor do I have any wish to explain why I am helping an undead."

"Why do Atarkans hate the undead so much?" I asked her softly. "Everything I've seen of them makes me think they go out of their way to slay daemons."

"There's a slight distinction in...ah...life states that I might point out here," she said, idly plucking at some grass. "Daemons aren't, strictly speaking, undead, since they were never alive. My people class them as the _unliving_. It's _them_ the Atarkans despise."

"Why?"

Kra'lysie let out a long breath and drew her knees up to her chest. "Because of a law that the supposed voice of the _aeth'er'eal_ gave to Atarka when living creatures first made it their home. 'Have no fellowship with daemons', or something. It's been passed down through the ages, and the living take it very seriously. Even dragons."

I twisted my head around to see her behind the trunk. "You don't believe where this law comes from?"

"I don't care, truth be told. It's damn useful, though, since it must be an incredible stumbling block to the Guardian."

"If he's pretending to be the ethereal voice, why can't he order the Atarkans to work with his daemons?" I asked.

"He _can't_. That's what I mean. If he contradicted an 'earlier' commandment, someone might smell a very large rat."

I remembered the first time I'd met Kra'lysie. "You used a daemon to attack me."

"That was a _mushus_s, actually. One of my familiars. It only looks like a daemon."

"Some daemons can become good," I said. "Are you familiar with the Shadowlords? Astaroth, Shadowlord of Hatred, was served by an arch-daemon called Sin 'Vraal."

Kra'lysie cut me off with a raised arm. "I know the story. Sin 'Vraal meets Lord British, Sin 'Vraal becomes good, Sin 'Vraal is banished to Britannia and mutated into what's to be later known as a gargoyle." She shrugged. "I don't know if it's true. I'll consent to believe that some daemons grow up, Avatar, but a daemon is still a daemon. I don't care how friendly you are to them - I'll hold on to my mistrust, thank you very much."

"You mean Arcadion?" I exclaimed. "Believe me, he's not my friend. But I guess I do trust him to an extent."

"Arcadion wants to kill me," Richard said, admiring a small blue flower on the grass. "I dreamed it."

I laughed dryly. "So did I. A while ago, anyway."

"What else did you dream?" Kra'lysie asked Richard intently, giving me a warning look.

"There was a big ritual on the Isle of the Avatar, and I was there," Richard went on, pulling the petals from the flower one by one. Stopping, he gave both Kra'lysie and me a puzzled look. "And thou wert there," he said, pointing. "And thou..." Then he pointed across the garden at either Iolo, Shamino, Dupre, Julia or Katrina, all of whom were coming our way. "And thou!"

"Oh, Virtues," I sighed, rolling my eyes skyward. "I think he read 'The Wizard of Oz' one too many times."

Kra'lysie didn't look convinced. "He shouldn't be having dreams if he's on _kel'tara quan_."

"Maybe he's just imagining it," I suggested, standing to welcome my friends.

"Maybe."

The others reached us and sat down on the grass nearby. I was amazed to see one good night's sleep and some food had had such an effect on them. Aside from varying degrees of sunburn and feet that were freshly bandaged, they all looked healthy, rested and generally happy. Washing water had been provided earlier so everyone was clean.

"So, where were you last night?" I asked Shamino.

"Exploring," he said with a grin. "These people have the strangest animals I've ever seen in their paddocks."

"Exploring? Even with bandaged feet?"

"I'm a ranger! Breaking my _legs _wouldn't stop me. This place is a wonder."

"Well you missed one hell of a game of cards last night."

"No thou didst not," Julia cut in. "Dupre was playing. And won."

Shamino grinned. "Glad I wasn't there. I like my gold where it is." He looked at me. "So what are we planning from here?"

I told them most of my discussion with Altara from last night. "If the sandstorm's died by tomorrow then we move out. One hundred of us can have visible weapons. If we make out that we are pilgrims - and their escort - returning from the Shrine of Silence, we should be ok."

"How far is it to this Krain Castle?" Dupre queried.

"Half a day."

"That's about nine hours in Britannian time," Kra'lysie put in. "You should be fine if you go by night."

"Thou'rt not coming?" Dupre asked, and the rest of us looked at her.

"Of course I am. I still have to show you to my peoples' caves. I meant 'you' as in 'humans'. _Kemah-thra_," she muttered. "I'd be one sorry excuse for a dragon if I couldn't survive a little heat." She suddenly looked around expectantly. "Somebody's coming."

Altara and Jae'tar approached our group with ten other _mezzini_. Now that mother and daughter stood together, I could see that the resemblance between the two was striking. The only differences I could see were that Jae'tar was a handspan taller and had storm blue eyes as opposed to Altara's dark brown.

"It's fortunate to find ye all together," Jae'tar said, looking us over with a cool glance. "There are things to discuss, but first-" she looked down at me and held out a sheathed longsword, "-this is for thee."

I got up and accepted it. "Thank thee." The dark grey scabbard was bound with brass and bore no markings. The hilt was made of some kind of dark gold metal I didn't recognise, and the pommel was a round, faceted, blood-red ruby almost the size of my clenched fist. Gripping the hilt with my right hard, I drew it to examine the blade. Flawless steel.

"The last of what we possess of the Dragonlore," Jae'tar said. "Use it well." She gestured to the ten _mezzini_ and they followed her as she walked away.

I almost went after her, but Altara bade me stay. "Jae'tar only came to deliver the sword." She sat down with us, gesturing for me to do likewise, and inclined her head toward Kra'lysie, who'd been observing the proceedings. "_Kra'lysie_."

The dragon-woman nodded back. "_Mezzin tara-thra_."

"Please forgive my daughter," Altara said. "She is less than enthused about giving an artefact to a liche."

"How did you know?" I asked softly.

"I sensed it. I _am _a mage, and strong enough to detect such things." She leaned back on the grass. "If I hadn't felt it last night then I would now. It's stronger."

"Why dost thou still help me, then?"

"The _kra'lysie_ said to. _Thou_ art not a daemon, so I will obey." She glanced at the dragon-woman then. "Though this cometh very close - even for one such as thyself."

Kra'lysie inclined her head slightly in acknowledgment.

"This is Altara," I told my friends. "Without her help we would probably still be trapped in the blackrock dome." I introduced my friends to her.

"Do all thy people live here?" Shamino asked. "I have not seen many."

"Do not feel obliged to answer that, _mezzin tara-thra_," Kra'lysie said quickly, her tone hard. "We do not need to know."

"I trust thy companions, _kra'lysie_," Altara replied. "Thou hast vouched for them."

"For the _humans_," Kra'lysie muttered darkly. "And the gargoyle."

I glared at her.

"This camp is merely a haven... Shamino, wasn't it? None of us really live here. It's a place to ride out sandstorms or to rest after battles or to gather supplies. This is also where all our knowledge is stored, and where what we salvaged of the Dragonlore was kept before today. My daughter's clan is here because Jae'tar wanted to visit me." She smiled briefly. "The other clans are scattered across the Krain, as we nomads usually are."

"Excuse me, Lady Altara," Dupre said, "but where are all the men?"

"With such clans that will take them. There are a few here who take care of the animals."

"None of them _fight_?" he asked, sounding shocked.

"None of them feel inclined to." She shrugged. "They're content to look after stock and supplies, eat and sleep. Everyone is happy with the way things are."

Dupre seemed to struggle with that concept for a while, and Katrina asked if all the _women _fought.

"Not all, though we all know how should the need arise," was the answer.

"_I hope you're not entertaining thoughts of leading the _mezzin_ men to rebellion_," I telepathed to Dupre, amused.

He snorted.

Altara looked at him, surprised. "Thou dost disagree?"

Dupre blinked and looked from her to me then back to her. "No, I was just-" he sighed. "Well, maybe a bit. I just think that the men are wasted tending to animals."

She smiled. "As I have said, they have chosen how they wish to live. Don't think that I underestimate their potential skill, Dupre. I have lost to and bested both men and women." She patted the long staff she bore affectionately. "My weapon of choice."

"What can we expect at this castle we're going to?" I asked, steering the conversation towards the future.

Altara considered. "Guard-wise, I'm not sure. Word is that every warrior was enlisted in the invasion, but I can't believe places like Krain Castle and Killorn Keep are undefended. Not that the latter is in any danger up in the sky."

I flicked my gaze down to the leather-wrapped bracer on my right arm and wondered. Surely Mors Gotha had used it to teleport there.

"Hath no one checked the castle?" Kra'lysie demanded, her golden eyes intent.

"Infiltration is not as easy as it once was." Altara reached back behind her neck then drew a thin silver chain from her robe. I instantly recognised the gold ring that hung from the necklace. A narrow band of gold surmounted by a flat circle, into which was engraved a daemonic face with two tiny, burning, ruby eyes.

A Guardian signet ring.

"They are very difficult to attain," Altara said, handing the ring to Kra'lysie.

"On another plane," I interrupted, remembering the Tomb of Praecar Loth, "I found many of them. As well as the bones of their owners. Thou couldst have asked me to look out for them for thee."

"Pre-owned rings are of no use," Kra'lysie said, passing the ring to me. "Look into the eyes."

Holding it between thumb and forefinger, I focussed on the fiery rubies. It only took a second. The jewels emitted a sudden bright glint, as if they'd been struck by sunlight, and in that instant of brightness I saw a face as clearly as you'd see your own in a mirror. Altara's face. "I was wearing a… _used_ ring in Killorn Keep. It seemed to do the job. At least, I was told about the Britannian invasion."

"Did they actually look into the ring?" Altara asked, and smiled when I shrugged and shook my head. "I doubt they suspected an intruder in Killorn Keep, of all places.

"These rings retain the features of their original owner's face," she went on as I passed the ring to Shamino. "We've no idea how or where they're made. They can be destroyed, but their magic can't be changed."

"Do they do aught else?" Iolo asked, peering at the rubies.

"No. I can say with almost full certainty that they are for identification only."

"So how didst thou get one?" Kra'lysie asked.

"One of our clans happened to raid a keep bordering the desert a while ago. A ceremony was going on at the time - bestowing a signet ring to some noble or warrior. The _mezzini_ managed to take the ring before it was given an owner, and brought it here.

"After consideration, the clan leaders decided to give it to me. Mages and scholars had a very good chance to rise high in the ranks of politics - much higher than warriors. There have been a few exceptions in this." She accepted her ring back and slid it onto the necklace. "Anyone found where they shouldn't be are killed if they don't have a ring. We _mezzini_ stick out with our dark skins and hair, so we are always looked upon with suspicion. Even if we are a member of the High Council. That is why there have been no infiltration attempts."

"High Council?" Lord British mumbled. "I used to have one of those."

"_Great _Council, Richard," I said as the companions stared at him in total astonishment. "Remember?"

His bearded face creased in concentration. "No, I don't." Then he smiled. "But I remember when I first met Shamino! Knowest thou where he is, Avatar?"

I pointed. "Right there."

Shamino, confused, half-raised his hand. "Here."

Richard frowned. "No, I don't remember thee... thou lookest older, for one thing. Much older." He scratched his head.

"What's wrong with him?" Julia demanded.

"He's on a high," Kra'lysie drawled, obviously amused.

"Where am I?" Richard said to himself.

"He's ok," I assured my friends. "He's just-"

"-on medication," Kra'lysie grinned.

I sighed.

"I think that's the first time I've really seen thee smile," Dupre noted. He looked at his king. "Now, if I can just figure out if it's good humour or not."

Richard handed him the flower he'd decapitated. "For thy lady friend. She remindeth me of a very old friend of mine."

"_Lady friend_?" Kra'lysie exclaimed angrily.

"_My_?" Dupre protested.

"_Old_?" Richard suddenly shouted to absolutely no one. "I am _not_!"

"Art thou _sure _he's not..." Julia paused and pointed at her head. "Losing it?"

Richard was looking up at the branches of the tree with an enthusiastic smile as he continued to talk to himself.

"He's been pretty quiet until now," Kra'lysie told Altara.

The mage rose to her feet. "I'll return him to his room. Please rest while ye have the chance."

Kra'lysie stood and dragged Richard to his feet. "I'll go with thee, _mezzin tara-thra_."

"Art thou coming, too?" Richard asked the tree.

The tree ignored him. A tree isn't that talkative unless one happens to be an emp.

"I think he's drunk," Dupre declared. "I got Richard drunk once - took him to a night on the towne in secret. We went to the theatre, the horse track, then the pub. He got drunk and spent half an hour talking to an empty chair." He shrugged. "So what's he on? And can I have some?"

Kra'lysie threw him a half-full water-skin that sloshed noisily when he caught it. "Here. Knock thyself out," she said sweetly, then walked off with Altara, Richard between them.

Dupre eyed the water-skin as if it had suddenly become a snake then quickly tossed it past Shamino to me. "I think I'd rather not. I'm not really sure I trust her _that _much."

"Wise choice," Katrina murmured.

Iolo idly strummed the lute he'd brought along. "_I'll sing ye the song of a dragon red_-"

"Where did you get that?" I asked as I worked the stopper from the skin. "Don't tell me you dragged it through Serpent's Hold and across the desert."

The bard stopped and hugged the instrument like a child would do with a favourite toy. "'Tis my security blanket!" He strummed it again. "_I'll sing ye the song of a dra_-"

"I don't really think that was a good idea," Julia said critically. "Thou shouldst know the effects extreme weather hath on instruments."

"Oh, Gwenno and I fixed that," I told her. "A nice spell handled it. Not even the strings will break."

"They won't?" Iolo blinked. "I didn't know that."

"You never noticed that, in all the years you've had that lute, none of the strings have ever broken?" I sniffed at the open water skin.

"What doth it smell like?" Dupre asked with a certain note of professionalism.

"Water."

"No, I didn't," Iolo mused. He shrugged and once again began to play the lute. "_I'll sing ye_-"

"Water actually smells?" the knight interrupted.

"Of course it doth!" Shamino said. "What, art thou stupid?"

"_Stupid_? Watch it _friend_, or I'll squash thee like a jellyfish."

_Well, it seems everyone is back to normal_, I thought with wry amusement. _How _did _I get through the last few days without the bickering_? I dribbled a bit of the skin's contents onto my finger and rubbed it with my thumb, watching curiously as it turned grey on my skin. I was on the verge of taste-testing when I remembered Richard and decided not to.

"Looketh like water, too," Julia said.

"It does?"

She raised a brow. "Doth it not?"

"It looks grey to me."

She leaned across the circle we were sitting in to get a better look. "It's clear."

"Hold out your hand." I wiped my finger onto her palm and the water drop suddenly became a brilliant orange with flecks of scarlet.

"Nothing," she said after a few seconds, and dried her hand on her robe.

"Interesting," I said softly, unheard as my friends continued to talk, sing, argue and generally just enjoy life. The red sands of the Krain desert swirled noiselessly around the protective barrier of the nomad encampment, enclosing it in a shimmering, crimson-amber dome. Beneath, the Britannians made the most of their brief respite amidst the greenery of a desert garden.

Tomorrow the quest would begin anew.

***

"Krain Castle," the dragon-woman said with satisfaction.

Still a good hour's walk away, the desert castle was indeed impressive. Built up against the sandstone cliffs - the western Tuay Mountains - a high wall of the red-gold stone encircled both the castle and the city below it. The inner keep of the castle could be seen soaring a massive ten storeys high above everything else, a Guardian banner fluttering from its battlements.

"Virtues," Richard muttered to me. "If Castle Britannia's tower were _that _high I think I'd kill myself rather than climb to my observatory."

I chuckled. "I wouldn't blame you."

As Kra'lysie had predicted, Richard had regained his mental capabilities by the next day. We'd taken until sundown to rest and prepare to depart, then had left at nightfall after thanking the _mezzini_. The walk had taken all night and the sun was just beginning to rise behind us, but the Britannians held up. They had beaten the desert; they weren't going to give in now.

"What's happening?" I asked Kra'lysie, for I could see a group of uniformed people marching towards us from the main gate.

"Welcoming committee. I hope this works."

__

"_Is everyone ready_?" I telepathed to my friends, who were again supervising groups. They answered in the affirmative, so all I could do was keep walking and wait. We'd given our surplus weapons to the _mezzini_. Sir Horffe was wearing a dark, voluminous, hooded robe that hid all his features, so long as he kept the sleeves covering his hands and his head down to hide his glowing eyes. His large wings could be explained as a deformity - a hunchback. A very _tall _hunchback. I'd also discovered that he had carried a human baby with him from Serpent's Hold, whom he had also insisted on concealing beneath his robe rather than let another take care of him. It was the son of Lady Tory, Riky, who had been killed in Castle Britannia during the imprisonment. Horffe knew she was dead, and, as no one seemed to know who the father was, had appointed himself the child's protector.

I hoped we'd pull this off.

"Halt!" a uniformed woman shouted, and I held up my right hand to both stop everyone and to show the bracer. Kra'lysie had told me that ornate bracers were status symbols among civilisation. Wearing one would lend me a look of importance, and Altara had said there were dozens of copies of the one the _ka-thra_ wore.

"What might I do for thee, Sergeant?" I asked calmly, noting the stripes on her uniform. Were _all _military markings the same? Or was the Guardian just a hopeless conformist?

The soldier drew herself up. She was somewhat younger - and shorter - than I. "What business hast thou here, stranger?"

"I am escorting these people from a pilgrimage to the holy _Telomar_ of Silence, Sergeant. We have come to Krain Castle in search of lodgings 'ere we continue our trek."

The sergeant's dark eyes narrowed as she looked past me to examine the group. "Thou hast children with thee," she pointed out.

"Yes," I agreed blandly. It wasn't that uncommon, according to Altara. Furthermore, would we be there to attack the castle if we had children with us?

"How many fighters among the escort?"

"Of veterans, there's myself and my six sub-commanders. I have ninety relatively green warriors with me, also."

"They might surprise thee," the sergeant said quickly. "Green warriors are just... legends who haven't yet taken form."

I held back a smile. "Of course, thou'rt right."

She nodded, attempting to look official. "Quite. Proceed, then." She motioned and her company made a relatively sharp about-face before marching back towards the castle.

"_It worked_," I sent to my friends. "_Let's go. Follow me_."

***

Finding enough inns to fit everyone took about three hours. We ended up having to put one group to each inn; Iolo's took the first, Shamino's the second, and so on. I told my friends to spend the sunlight hours resting, as Kra'lysie and I would look in to transport to the dragon caves.

The city itself was a remarkable place. The roads were paved white stone, the buildings red-brick. A bubbling water fountain graced every major intersection, and there were several well-tended gardens, parks and orchards. Some of these were filled with brightly decorated tents, and tables laden with wares both practical and exotic stood outside. The people seemed like any kind of city folk, hurrying along from one task to the next, pausing to chat with a neighbour, buying a dozen eggs for a family... it was hard to tell that this place was under the Guardian's rule. Hard to see how this place was any different from Britain.

Except, perhaps, for the fashion trends. The people here all wore very bright colours - probably to reflect the sunlight - and, with the exception of the soldiers, they all wore skirts of varying lengths. Even the men.

"Don't ask me why," Kra'lysie said, smoothing the front of her own vivid red tunic and knee-length skirt. "I'm a dragon, remember?"

"It doesn't look like any warriors wear skirts," I noted as we walked up a road. "I hope all this is just a custom. I don't even know the laws of this place."

Kra'lysie shrugged. "If all goes well, we'll be well away from here by tomorrow. Ah," she touched my arm and pointed up ahead. "The _shem'lysie_ docks."

It was the northern wall of the city. Between two guard towers the long, sinuous, dark-gold necks and crested heads of three sand serpents reared up from the desert sands below. All three wore large leather harnesses over their heads, and they regarded the humans on the wall with black-eyed disinterest.

"That sign there," Kra'lysie said, indicating a large, square board with indecipherable writing (at least to me) on it. "The schedule. It seems that no one gets passage to the caves. There's one that goes to a pass in the northern mountains, but that's still too far away."

"I wonder if you can ask for a different destination," I mused.

"Nay can do, lady," a male voice said from beside us. We looked around to see a lean man with black hair, blue eyes and white clothes. "The _shem'lysie_ barges run on a timetable set by the Imperial Family. No one in their right minds would cross them, unless the price was right."

"Passage is already fifty _drathi_!" Kra'lysie exclaimed. "What more couldst thou want?"

He smiled to reveal white teeth against his dark skin. "There's always more, ladies." He bowed. "I am the captain of the _Desert Wind_ barge. That's my wyrm," he pointed at the farthest right sand serpent. "Beautiful, isn't he?" He looked at us. "So where were ye two hoping to go?"

"The old dragon caves in the Tuay Mountains," I said.

The captain shook his head. "Thou'rt not the first to ask for that place, nor will ye be the last, I'm guessing. No one goes there, ladies."

"At all?"

"At all. Forbidden ground, by Imperial decree."

"So an air-ship wouldn't take us either?" Kra'lysie asked.

"Nay. Sorry." And he turned away, vanishing into the crowd.

"Well," Kra'lysie said with a deep breath. "Now what?"

I kept the disappointment from showing on my face. We hadn't come this far for nothing. "I'll think of something."

She glanced upward as one of the sand serpents let out a threatening hiss at someone who got too close. "Let's get something to eat while you think, then. I'm famished."

We started back into the city, pushing our way through the crowds that grew as the morning got older. Small patrols of what appeared to be young, inexperienced guards walked the streets, but we never saw them do anything else. The city of Krain seemed to be a very orderly, lawful place.

"The overhanging threat of capital punishment has its advantages," Kra'lysie said when I asked about this. "Look below the surface, Avatar. These people aren't just lawful. They're afraid." She paused to look in the window of a butcher. "I haven't had a good _gnavu _carcass in centuries," she murmured, dreamily eyeing a hanging ribcage the size of an entire cow.

"It'll be longer, I think. You might draw attention eating that while we walk down the street."

She sighed. "I hate being human."

"Why don't you try some fruit or pastries?"

"Because I _need_ some nice red meat. Maybe I can get some sausages... I'll be right back." She went inside.

I wandered across the sun-blasted road to examine the window of a jewellery shop. Brilliant gems, some obviously enchanted, glittered behind the glass pane. There were armbands, torcs, rings, necklaces, earrings and some things I'd never seen before.

"Thou! Woman!"

Turning, I saw a lady with silvery-grey hair and rich clothes astride a horse-like beast. She was looking straight at me. Flanking her were a young man and woman. Both had reddish-gold hair and the features and regal bearing of the elderly lady.

Then I realised everyone in the vicinity had abased themselves before the three and their entourage of black-clothed guards. I was the only one standing.

_Bow? Remain standing? Say something_? The choices sped through my mind and I couldn't pick one. The regally-dressed old woman fortunately hadn't singled me out for any irreverence.

"Thou art the _thra_ of the pilgrimage that came into our city today?"

I walked away from the shop to face them and gave a short bow. "I am, my Lady."

"Thou shalt call the Empress by her rightful title, dog!" one of the guards shouted.

The Empress! I bowed again to hide my startled expression. What did she want with me? "Forgive me, your Imperial Majesty," I murmured. "I live far from here and had never seen thine august self before."

The woman fixed me with sharp, hawk-gold eyes. "There will be a grand ball and feast in the palace tonight," she said in a ringing voice. "Imperial protocol dictates that all nobles be in attendance. Thy bracer bespeaketh thine importance."

I gave the richly jewelled armband a quick glance, wondering if I should verify or gainsay her.

"It is our wish that thou and five of thy people attend the ball tonight," the Empress said. Tugging the reins of her steed, she turned it around and rode away with the two younger nobles - her grandchildren, I supposed, - and most of the guards. One paused to throw a token to me.

"Show this to the guards when thou goest to the palace," he instructed.

I caught it. "Thanks."

"And I'd find some finer clothes if I wert thou. It _will _be a ball. Dress like a noble, not a warrior." As he turned to leave, he added, "And leave thy weapons."

"I really wish I knew what was going on," I muttered, watching the procession vanish up the street as the crowds started moving again. Opening my hand, I examined the token. An obsidian coin about the width of my thumbnail. Tiny silver glyphs ran around the edges on both sides, and a small, fiery red jewel was set in the middle. The jewel flashed white when I looked through it - like a camera flash.

"What's that?" Kra'lysie asked when she returned, a basket of raw sausages in one hand and a steaming, half-eaten meat pie in the other.

"A party invitation."

"Oh?" She took a bite of the pie then spoke around it. "From who?"

"The Empress."

She went into a fit of coughing, swallowed, then stared at me. "You're kidding, right?" She pulled me aside and lowered her voice, watching me intently. "Are you serious?"

"Yes." I frowned. "Why?"

"How many can come with you?"

"Uh, five."

"Good. I'll be one." Her eyes narrowed. "This is the best chance we'll ever have," she said, a terrible intensity in her voice.

"To do what?" I whispered, sure I wasn't going to like it.

"To murder the Imperial Family, Avatar."

I shook my head. "No way. Forget it."

"Why not? You want to get back at the Guardian, don't you?"

"I'd prefer to use my sword on _him_ instead of his mindless followers."

Kra'lysie smiled coldly. "I'm sure that's what you were thinking when you butchered the leaders of that Fellowship you told me about."

"They attacked me first. Don't tell me they didn't deserve it. You know what their murders look like."

"Justice?"

"In part, yes."

"Then what about all the people the Empress has had killed?" she demanded. "What about _my_ people? The _mezzini_? Your precious Britannians?"

"We don't know it's her orders, Kra'lysie," I replied after a long, uncomfortable pause. "I was under the impression that the military was commanded from Killorn Keep."

She glared at me for pointing that out. "Why do you think I returned here, to Atarka?"

I looked at her with pity. "You told me it was to help our fight against the Guardian, and I believed you. Now I know the truth. You just want revenge."

For the first time since we'd met, she seemed truly speechless.

"It's ok," I went on. "I've travelled with people who've felt the same."

"You've travelled with people who've had their entire race slaughtered?" Kra'lysie asked in a lethally quiet voice.

"You don't know that's true."

"I suppose I can't expect a liche to understand. After all, they work toward the extinction of their living kindred."

My reply was delivered in an icy voice. "If you want revenge then do it yourself. It should be very interesting, seeing as how you won't kill."

"As interesting as seeing what will happen when they see you're a..." she lowered her angry voice and spat, "_liche_."

"And when they see you're a dragon?" I retaliated. The use of blackmail made me feel sick at heart, even if it was defending myself.

"_Kemah-thra_, I hate you," Kra'lysie snarled softly, throwing her half-eaten pie to the ground with a wet splat of meat. "I wish I'd never come!" Then her eyes narrowed and her mind-voice said, "_I wish I'd fried you on Ambrosia when I'd had the chance_."

As she turned to stalk away, I resisted the urge to get the last word in. The last thing I needed was an angry dragon on my hands, particularly one that had the power to reveal who my friends and I were. That made me wonder if I should take her to the ball at all. I clenched the token in one hand, then stared down at it with a bitter twist to my lips. One side of the coin had the impression of the Empress's face engraved on the jewel. The other bore a dragon.

_Let her come or leave her behind..._

Balancing the token on the edge of the circle I made by touching thumb to forefinger, I flipped it into the air...

***

The light of sunset made the stones forming the city and castle seem as though lit by an inner fire. A deep, dark, smouldering colour - embers in an hearth - enhanced by the black, ever-lengthening shadows. As the sun sank lower into the rainbowed horizon, street-lamps were lit. It wasn't fire that burned in them, but white jewels. Glowing crystals.

"Fascinating," Richard murmured, watching as one was activated by a woman wielding a long, wooden pole. "I wish I knew how it was done."

Kra'lysie, who was leading him, Dupre, Iolo, Julia and me to the palace, glanced back with a faint look of contempt, but remained silent. She hadn't spoken since our argument and, if anything, seemed more arrogant and nasty than normal.

I shook my head slightly and frowned. She didn't deserve that. She _did_ have cause to feel the way she did. "We might find out some time," I said to Richard, "once the war is over."

"Once the war is over we'll have lost access to these other worlds, I think." He tugged at the right, elbow-length sleeve of his violet shirt. "Art thou sure I don't look like a fool?" he whispered self-consciously.

"You've been dressing for state functions for centuries, Richard. Why so tense now?"

"I've never worn a _skirt_ before, Elora," he muttered, sounding completely embarrassed. "On top of that, I'm seldom under cover."

As we rounded a corner, I looked the Lord of Britannia over. His blond, silver-threaded hair and beard had been trimmed and the sunburn was barely noticeable any more. He wore a violet shirt, a deep blue skirt that reached below the knees - almost like a kilt, actually - and silver, cross-gartered sandals. He'd left his insignia ring behind, but wore the serpentine amulet under his shirt.

"Richard," I said, keeping stern control of my facial features, "you look..." I glanced back at my other male companions in their similar attire - a fatal mistake. It made me remember taking them out into the city to find their clothes. A woman had run up to Richard and, brandishing a bright blue skirt in her left fist, declared, "Oh, Gorgeous, thou simply _must _try this on! 'Twill match thine eyes much better than that drab outfit!" 

I broke into a grin. "Beautiful. You all look beautiful."

Julia laughed and I could have sworn I heard Kra'lysie chuckle.

"Great." Richard rolled his eyes. "Thanks."

"How did Shamino get out of this?" Dupre demanded.

"He didn't want to come," Julia reminded him. "Thou didst."

"I didn't know I'd be wearing this frippery," the knight complained. "I feel half-naked! And it _isn't _just because of the skirt, thank thee. I can't believe we couldn't bring our weapons."

I smiled, but didn't tell him about the dagger I had strapped to one of my thighs. The entrance to the palace was in sight, as was a patrol of younglings dressed up as guards. Producing the token I'd been given earlier that day, I touched Kra'lysie's shoulder and motioned for her to walk behind me. I was meant to be the _thra_.

She gave me a strangely curious look, then nodded and fell back into step beside Dupre.

"Let's party," I muttered to myself, and led the way.

***

"Invitations," the guard said, holding out his hand. Taking my token, he inspected it, scrutinised my face, counted the number of people with me, checked for visible weapons, then called a subordinate and instructed him to take us inside.

I'd expected a journey through passages and corridors before reaching a Great Hall, but was mistaken. When we passed through the portcullis, the guard touched the single gem adorning his bracer and the air rippled.

Where seconds ago there'd been little more than a vague darkness, there was suddenly music and light. Ten jewel-lamps appeared around a raised, circular platform of desert-coloured mosaic tiles upon which people danced. Beyond was a smaller platform, a little higher and set under the overhanging structure of what appeared to be the inner keep. Left and right of the dance floor, small paths led off into dense green gardens.

"Present thy groups to the Empress then enjoy the party," the guard said in a bored-sounding voice. He walked back through the gate and vanished.

So did the gate.

"Virtues!" Julia stared at the blackness that had taken the place of the gatehouse, then backed away a step. "What..?"

Kra'lysie's eyes had gone flat with rage. "This magic belongs to my people!" she said in an infuriated whisper. "How _dare _they?"

It was then that I remembered we'd seen the same magic at the nomad camp. "Come on," I muttered. "We'd better observe custom."

"I am _not_ going up there!" The dragon-woman was actually quivering with suppressed fury. "If you force me, Avatar, I swear I'll change shape and raze this place to the desert sands - and _kemah-thra_-damn the consequences!" Turning, she stalked off into the garden and disappeared amidst the trees.

The others looked at me. I sighed, glanced up at the inner keep, then down at the royal dais beyond the dance floor. "Richard and Dupre on my right, Iolo and Julia, left. Let's go."

Walking together, we mounted the first three steps to where the dancers were and crossed over. People melted out of our way and we didn't have to slow or pause even once before we reached the steps leading up to the dais. A throne and two smaller, less ornate chairs rested there, upon which sat the Empress and the two younger nobles I'd seen with her earlier tody. Flanking them were fourteen guards dressed all in dark red cloth with faces hidden and jewelled rods the length of my forearm in their belts.

Uncertain of how to greet the Imperial Family, I executed a carefully respectful bow and sensed my companions follow suit. "Greetings, your Imperial Majesty and Highnesses," I said.

"We are pleased thou couldst attend this evening," the Empress said. I straightened, noticing her eyes searched mine deeply. No expression crossed her regal face as she added, "We hope thou wilt enjoy the New Moons Festival." She raised one hand to dismiss us.

"If I may," I said.

She stared at me impassively, as did the other two.

"Why was I invited? Forgive me, but this is my first time in Krain-"

"All nobles and _thrai_ attend us at the New Moons Festival," was the reply. "It is tradition."

"Is it tradition that thou deliverest invitations in person?"

Again that impassive stare. "We hope thou wilt enjoy the New Moons Festival," she repeated, and raised her hand.

The unguarded thought, "_I am no servant of thine_," crossed my mind as my eyes narrowed at her. I didn't like this one bit. And there was nowhere to run if something went wrong.

"Dismissed," the Empress said coolly.

We bowed again before retreating to the right side of the dance floor where refreshments were being served.

"What's wrong?" Iolo asked softly. "thou'rt not usually so blunt."

I picked up a wineglass to create the image to observers that this was nothing more than a light-hearted conversation. "_Because I'm angry with myself_," I thought to him, Richard, Dupre and Julia. "_And I'm sure we've walked into a trap_."

Richard took a glass and sipped from it. "Not bad," he said aloud. "_How canst thou be sure, Elora_?"

"Nothing like it back home," I agreed after taking a sip. "_It doesn't fit - any of it._"

"_It could just be a huge coincidence,_" Dupre thought, scanning the array of drinks. "I wonder if they have any ale..."

"I never was one for wine," Julia said, taking two clear bottles and handing one to Dupre. "Let's try a shot of this."

"_I doubt it's coincidental_," I telepathed, frowning into my glass. "_Don't look, but they're watching us. I can see them without turning my head._"

All three were looking in our direction. The younger two were leaning toward the Empress, as if she was whispering something to them.

"Well..." Dupre smacked his lips and nodded to Julia. "Good stuff." Silently: "_The last thing we need is Kra'lysie stirring things up. Should I find her_?"

"_If you would. Ask her to dance, or something. Anything to keep her mind off mayhem and carnage._"

"_I can't dance_!"

"_Even better. Use that as a line and she'll take it as a challenge._"

Dupre gave me a helpless look then stalked off, muttering to himself.

Iolo was eyeing the musicians' platform on the left side of the dance floor speculatively. "I think," he said, "I'll go over there."

Which left Richard, Julia and me. The former swept a low bow and grinned. "Which of ye two lovely ladies would care to dance?"

"_Not _me," I stated adamantly.

"Can't?"

I grinned. "Won't." Reaching over, I clapped Julia on the shoulder. "Have fun!"

The tinker rolled her eyes and said, "As I recall, thou didst also say, 'I won't wear a skirt!' Quite forcefully, actually."

I raised a brow at her and smiled in placid agreement, remembering the storeman who had knelt amidst a heated discussion about what my colour was, attempted to measure my waistline with a length of string without warning, then got my elbow slammed back into his face.

Richard remembered, too. Clearing his throat nervously, he extended a hand to Julia who sighed, took it, threw me a "Thou owest me one," look, then followed him out to the floor.

Feigning a sip from my wineglass, I looked around, noting the positioning of guards. Two under each of the ten glowing jewel-lamps, four at the musicians' platform and refreshment table, six on the Imperial dais. Pursing my lips, I noticed the throned young man was watching me carefully. There was no expression on his face - as blank as the Empress's, and that didn't change even when I met his eyes stare for stare.

Lifting a brow in silent challenge, I didn't look away until a hand touched my shoulder.

"Hello, Elora?" Richard's voice said. "Art thou still with us?"

I looked around. "What..?"

"Ready to dance now?"

"I thought you were dancing with Julia."

"I was. We shared two, then she went over there-" he pointed to where Iolo was "-to get a look at the instruments."

"Hm... I must have lost track of time." And that man was _still _watching. "_Don't you know it's rude to stare_?"

"What?" Richard asked.

"What?" I said.

He shrugged then extended his hand, a wicked smile on his face. "Might I have this dance, Elora?"

"You can't be serious!" I said, laughing. "I don't know how to dance."

"Oh, there's nothing to it. Come on, even _Dupre_ is dancing."

I grinned, slanting a glance over to where the knight was stepping lightly across the polished floor, hand in hand with Kra'lysie. He, like all the other men, wore a short skirt and silver-thonged sandals. His thin, white shirt had sleeves down to the elbows and was open at the throat. The outfit didn't make him look ridiculous in the least, but I still had to fight hard not to laugh. One of the customs here among the men was to wax their legs, and Dupre had chosen _not_ to observe that custom.

"Elora?" Richard said in a teasing voice. "That wallflower look is most unbecoming of thee."

"_Richard_!" I protested, glad that I was incapable of blushing. "I only know how to square-dance, and I'm _not_ going to get up and do the Bus Stop."

"Thou wilt not have to." He pulled me up and basically dragged me out onto the floor. "Now, since thou hast led our people thus far, I think it's only fair that I should get the distinct honour of leading this dance." He grinned slyly. "Then thou canst take over when thou hast picked up the steps."

"I'm going to get you for this," I threatened.

The Lord of Britannia's grin widened. "I'll look forward to it, Elora."

Then we danced, and I'll freely admit that he was _much _better at it than I. The only times _I_ ever danced was when I had a weapon in my hands.

At length, the music stopped and a new song began. It was a slow waltz and quite a nice piece, but I wasn't one for close dancing. On the verge of opening my mouth to tell Richard I'd sit this one out, we were suddenly divided by a second couple - none other than the two Imperial children. The woman took Richard's arm and the man took mine, not even bothering to ask.

"_Well, have fun,_" I thought to Britannia's Lord.

"_Thou as well_," was the cheerful reply.

And the dance started.

"I don't bite," the young man said, for I'd visibly tensed when he'd put his right hand on my hip. "Thou art the _thra_ of the escort that came in with those pilgrims today, right?"

"Right." I avoided eye contact rather carefully, choosing to stare over one of his shoulders.

"Thy name?"

"Is it not customary for one to divulge his own name first, your Highness?"

His hands clenched slightly, but quickly relaxed. "Not in the Castle, my Lady. Not with the Son-Heir."

"Is it customary for thee to dress like a warrior?" I hadn't noticed before. He and the other two Imperialists wore pants instead of skirts.

"We dress as we please," he said stiffly, and I couldn't tell if he'd used the royal plural or had meant to include his sister and mother. "Thou art a warrior?"

"One of the best."

"One of the best _looking_, certainly," he replied, golden-brown eyes running down the arm he was holding. "How does thy skill compare?"

I incorporated a modest blush into my illusion. Might as well play the part of a girl smitten by the handsome prince. He obviously expected it. "I defeated Mors Gotha on two occasions, your Highness."

He looked impressed. "Not many can claim to have done that _once_. Wouldst thou care to fight _me_, my Lady? A little one-on-one?"

"_Sleaze_," I thought. "_How I would _love _to accept and kick your sorry behind_." That suddenly sounded like a good idea. We might need a hostage just to get out of here.

"Thou dost me honour," I answered aloud, lowering my eyes into what I hoped was a demure expression. "I accept."

The dance ended and he let me go and bowed. "I am pleased. Show this to the guards on the Imperial Dais after the next dance." He gave me a token much like the one I'd surrendered at the gate. "They will show thee into the Arena. And bring thy companions," he added, as if in afterthought, as he bowed once more and walked away.

"So much for a private duel," I muttered, then looked around to find Richard approaching alone. His former partner was also walking back toward the dais. "Well?"

"Charming lady," he replied dryly. "Good dancer. Beautiful. All the warmth of an iceberg."

"She didn't come on to you," I guessed, grinning.

He grinned back. "I take it thy luck was better?"

"I think my definition of luck and yours may differ, Richard." We strolled to the refreshment table and I told him what had happened, showing him the token.

"We must be cautious," he said, his brow creasing.

I was still in a good mood, body tingling in anticipation of a fight. "I know we don't have weapons," I said, "but magic... I have that in abundance. We can take anything they throw at us."

"What about our people in the city?" he pointed out.

"They'll be safe if we have the Imperial Family as hostages." I paused and handed him a drink. "It's a trap," I whispered. "I know it, and so do you. But we don't have time to tip-toe around it and find another way to the dragon caves. Let's spring it, get it over with, then take care of Mellorin."

***

A few minutes later, six guards led me and my five companions within the inner keep and downstairs. None of the Imperials had been on the dais when I'd presented the token - they'd gone inside some minutes before - so I assumed they'd all be in the Arena.

I was partially right.

The Arena, a gigantic, square hall that dwarfed Lord British's throne room, had grey stone walls and a smooth black floor. Several jewel-lamps shone from niches in the walls, but not enough that we could see the roof. Since darkness wasn't much of a factor for my eyes, I guessed the roof must simply be very high up. There were chairs along the wall opposite the door we came through, and a single chair on both the left and right sides. The latter two were occupied by one of the Imperial women. Both looked at me and no other when we entered, and the guards took their leave.

"My son will be here shortly," the Empress stated. Her voice echoed through the room. "Please take a seat."

We crossed the hall, our footsteps alarmingly loud, and sat in the vacant chairs. I glanced at my friends in turn. Richard sat calmly with a kind of easy authority, eyes searching the Empress's face. Dupre was looking around and gauging distances from here to the Imperials to the door. Iolo seemed slightly worried, and Julia kept a wary eye on the younger Imperial, who had two swords across her lap. Kra'lysie stared at the floor, outwardly calm and inwardly furious. I knew it. She had refused to come, so I had ordered her out of sheer impatience. After a brief, heated argument about what authority I thought I had, Richard stepped in, told Kra'lysie we expected a trap, then asked her - nicely - if she would help. She'd consented, albeit reluctantly. I'd have to apologise later.

The door eventually opened again and the Empress's son entered wearing a black shirt and trousers. He crossed immediately to his sister, took the swords she held out and the folded black cloth they'd rested on, then approached us, his eyes only on me.

"Thou mayest find it easier to fight wearing this," he said, handing me the cloth.

I unfolded it. Loose pants, like the ones he wore. "Thank thee, your Highness." I stood, pulled them on under the skirt (taking care not to catch them on my hidden dagger), then took the skirt off and put it on my chair. When I'd tucked my white shirt in, he gave me one of the swords.

No one spoke as we walked to the centre of the Arena where there was a dark gold pattern in the black floor. I hefted the sword a little, experimenting, decided it was a standard longsword.

The Son-Heir and I crossed blades and he said, "We fight until first blood or one of us yields. No magic and no physical contact, save with our swords."

"I understand."

Our blades tapped together and he attacked straight away, pressing forward with a flurry of slashing blows. I concentrated on defending, letting the feel of the fight come to me. I hadn't used a sword in a while, or even fought a human opponent in at least a week. I was far from forgetting how to fight, but it was like learning a musical instrument - you had to practise.

"Is this how thou fought Mors Gotha?" he asked after a minute of me blocking and parrying.

"Mors Gotha was a woman," I answered. "We were more or less equal in height and weight." I turned aside another attack.

"Surely thou hast fought many men!"

"Am I right in being cautious fighting thee?" I countered, trying to make it seem the words didn't come easily during our battle.

Dark eyes glittered. "Oh yes."

This time when he swung, my own sword lashed out to clash against it. The Arena rang like a bell and sparks literally flew from our blades at the force of the blows, falling to the floor in a glittering shower.

I pressed my attack.

Stroke after stroke rained down or cut across at my opponent, each followed instantly by another so that it looked like one long, continuous assault. The Son-Heir didn't use his sword to defend himself; he ducked or dodged.

"Didst thou ever fight Mors Gotha?" I asked, slashing at his chest.

He pushed himself back, throwing his arms wide. "I always fought her." He got in a counterstroke, which I blocked. "So did my mother and sister." He struck again, trying to use my look of amazement to his advantage.

"Thou'rt serious?" I demanded, catching his sword on my own. I hadn't expected this. "But we fought her, too!"

His eyes slid pointedly down to the bracered wrist holding my sword. "Thou canst say that? Thou art her successor!"

I parried two more blows, risked a glance at my friends. Kra'lysie was staring at us, but my human companions were looking at either the Empress or her daughter. Unmoving. Paralysed.

Ducking, I avoided losing my head. This guy wasn't just after first blood. "I killed Mors Gotha," I grated. "This _thing_ was forced on me. A daemon-" I shut up and concentrated on fighting. 

"No doubt," the man replied. "Daemons are always at the thick of it. So are all the undead." He brought his sword down in a crushing overhead stroke. I blocked and my sword shattered, throwing me off-balance. The force of the blow knocked me flat, and he was following through before I could roll away or flip to my feet. Grabbing the hilt with its handspan of broken steel in both hands, I thrust upwards as hard as I could and blocked the downward stroke with one of the quillons.

The Son-Heir's eyes were by now a glowing dark gold.

"You're not human," I said, struggling to halt the slow descent of his sword.

"No," he agreed, smiling humourlessly. "But then, neither are you."

"_Idiot_!" I growled at myself. "_What use being undead if you don't check what others are_? But I already knew why. Using undead powers made me feel like a liche. Kra'lysie would have said it didn't make a difference - I was what I was. But I felt that by choosing not to succumb to the lure of using my magic, there _was _a difference.

Time would tell. But my time was running out.

I pushed his sword left then rolled right. He'd had his full weight pushing down, so he stumbled forward, sword cutting a gash in the smooth floor.

Scrambling back, I got up and slashed a hole in the side of my pants. I drew my dagger. "Kra'lysie! Feel free to help any time now!"

She didn't answer, and the Son-Heir charged, blade whistling and eyes blazing. I was aware of the Empress and her daughter coming to their feet as I used hilt and dagger to defend myself. Then I abandoned both and locked my hands around the hilt of his sword, and his free hand closed over both of mind.

"Got you," he said softly, satisfied.

I kicked him in the groin, then under the chin as he doubled up, snapping his head back. He grunted in pain at both and released the sword. I grabbed it, then brought the point up to his throat where he knelt on the floor and nicked his chin.

"First blood."

I drew it back and he closed his eyes, as if waiting for a death-blow.

"_No_!" The Empress shouted, the word suddenly ending in a roar that thundered through the Arena.

I had to turn around.

A dragon the colour of dried blood with spines and breastplates gleaming bronze flew at me, foreclaws outstretched, jaws agape.

Then a second dragon interceded, slamming into the first from the side and crashing both of them into a wall that shuddered with the impact. Kra'lysie.

A rush of wind preceded a thud that shook the floor and almost knocked me off my feet again. Spinning once more, this time I found myself staring into the opening mouth of a gold-scaled dragon crouched protectively over her brother, fire building in the back of her throat.

"_Stop_!" Kra'lysie roared, then said something in her own language.

The dark-red Empress dragon untangled herself, stared at Kra'lysie, then at me, as did her golden daughter. Cautiously, she asked Kra'lysie something, nodded at the response she received, then waved one claw.

A noise came from the direction of my human friends.

"What by the Abyss is going on?" Dupre demanded.

I looked at him and shrugged. "Damned if _I _know."

***

Everything was explained, to the relief of both parties. After I'd told all about my previous venture in Killorn Keep, the war in Britannia, the _aeth'raesh'al_ bracer and why we were here, the Imperial dragons (in their natural forms) told their side.

Two and a half centuries ago, when the armies of the Guardian warred against dragons, four dragons had flown south from the caves seeking refuge. Most of their kind were imitating humans to escape the exodus, but it didn't work when daemons walked among the warriors - unliving and undead alike could pick a dragon aura from a long distance away. Worse, they always held enough authority in the army to order the deaths of any humans of inconsequential rank. So these four dragons flew to Krain Castle, kidnapped the Emperor, Empress, Son-Heir and Daughter-Heiress, deposited them in the middle of the Desert, then returned to the castle and took their places wearing their faces. All this had been managed while invisible. All non-living courtiers had been dealt with quickly and harshly. A field to block scrying had been erected - 'plunder' from the dragon caves. And from then on, the Imperial throne had been controlled by the creatures the Guardian had tried to kill. Dragons.

One of them had died over the years. No, he'd been killed. Flying north-east, he'd sought a _mezzin_ camp to inform them of the situation, had run into Killorn Keep and had been shot from the sky, then cut down on the sands.

They'd heard all about it from a proud emissary. Then they had given her the bounty to deliver to her employer.

During time's passage, they'd worn different faces, swapped roles and ruled Atarka, though always in the Guardian's name. The vast majority of the people were loyal to _him_ first, if only by fear, and to the throne second.

When one of the three dragons had seen me and the Britannians arrive at the Castle, had seen I was undead and that I was wearing an _aeth'raesh'al_ - Mors Gotha's, no less, - they'd feared I'd been sent to have them all killed. They'd thought that since I was undead, I'd known what they were all along.

"I never thought to look," I said. "I wonder if this could have been avoided."

"No harm done," the man, Ea'kra, said, though he still looked a little pale. "Fortunately."

"We've spent so long at this that we never considered other dragons might come," added the young woman, Masel'sha. "There isn't a lot of difference between the senses one uses to see an undead and a dragon, but they're still there."

"I couldn't believe any other dragons had survived," Kra'lysie said. "Let alone in the palace."

"What can we do?" Masel'sha asked. "Our authority is nothing next to the Guardian's. We might as well have died with our kin."

"It's a better idea than serving the Guardian," Kra'lysie growled.

"As opposed to abandoning our world altogether?" she shot back.

"Ladies," Richard interrupted, not looking in the least intimidated as he stood up and paced between the two sullen-looking dragons. "Let's not dwell on the past, but decide on the future. We need to get to the dragon caves, remember?"

The Empress, Kinorain-thra, nodded. "I need only command it. How many would go? Just you six?"

Richard glanced at me and I shrugged. "Easiest way."

"I'll have the documents sent. The barge will leave at dawn."

"How long is the trip?" I asked.

"Just over a day with the barges. Your people will be safe here until you return. You have our word."

_Finally_, something was going right. "Thank thee."

"Canst thou tell us anything about the invasion in Britannia?" Dupre asked.

"Precious little," the Empress said. "We have no power over the military. Last we heard was that some castle or another had been captured."

"Serpent's Hold," Iolo murmured.

"What about the new _Ka-thra_?" I asked.

Masel'sha shook her head. "We didn't even know there was one. We knew Mors Gotha was dead and assumed daemons were directing the army."

"Maybe I should visit Lobar at Killorn Keep," I mused.

"General Lobar?" Ea'kra asked. "He's not there. Moved out to Britannia about a week ago."

"That's near the time we arrived," Richard noted.

Kra'lysie said, "Do you three know how the Guardian got his hands on an _aeth'raesh'al_?"

Richard frowned at her - both for the interruption and her implications - but Kinorain-thra's answer was level.

"No, we don't. No one found the Dragonlore, so a dragon must have told him. I don't know if such a one would still be alive. It's likely the Guardian has a captive or two - he'd need them if he wants more _aeth'raesh'ali_."

"No doubt," Kra'lysie agreed, frowning at her.

The Empress's daughter sat back in her chair. "What are we doing that's any different to what you're doing? Now that you're back in Atarka, what are you planning?"

Kra'lysie avoided her eyes and didn't reply.

Masel'sha nodded slightly, let it pass, then looked at me. "Of you, Avatar, we know much. Or we did when we had the Dragonlore. Legends abound of your prowess, strength and Virtue."

"All true," Dupre declared solemnly.

I coughed. "It was probably exaggerated."

"I doubt it," Ea'kra remarked. "Few have beaten Mors Gotha. Fewer have defeated a dragon in single combat."

"I sort of have an unfair advantage," I pointed out, meaning my undeadness.

"Not really. The sword I gave you was designed to break if hit just so."

"See, Avatar?" Dupre said, hitting my arm. "I told thee thou wert good! When wilt thou get out of that damned Humility?"

I batted his hand away and jerked a thumb at my Ankh. "I _can't,_ remember? Besides, I kinda enjoy being humble. It irritates you."

***

To one who couldn't sleep, namely me, the wait for dawn seemed to take forever. Before sunrise, though, Richard, Iolo, Dupre, Julia, Kra'lysie and I stood at the _shem'lysie_ docks and showed a token the Empress had given me to a captain, a lean man with olive-tinged skin, black hair and dark eyes. He nodded once, pocketed the talisman and led us to where the sand serpents were waiting.

People melted out of the way as he put two fingers to his mouth and whistled a shrill call.

One of the serpents, a beautiful creature of mottled red and russet scales, lowered its head to the stone wall and emitted a low crooning sound. Black eyes glinted in appreciation as the captain fed it a fist-sized chunk of spiced meat then climbed atop the broad bridge of its nose with a silver, gem-studden harness. When it was fitted over the serpent's head, the captain twitched it lightly and the creature slid further forward on to the wall to reveal a large saddle-like contraption strapped to its wide neck.

"Party of six," the captain shouted, nodding to us. "Sands are waiting!"

The saddles were arranged in two rows. I took the front with Richard, followed by Iolo and Julia, Dupre and Kra'lysie. It seemed the knight was taking it upon himself to try and keep the dragon-woman in line. We each gripped the pommels of our seats, and I saw the gems embedded in each glitter brightly as they were touched.

"Hold on!" the captain called, and, standing just behind the serpent's head with reins in hand, whistled another command.

The _shem'lysie_ lifted its head up, baring fangs at the humans still on the ground, and turned to face the desert. It rose higher until we were sitting vertical, but I felt no different. Even my cloak hung close to my body instead of out behind me. I looked at Richard and grinned. He gave me a somewhat shaky smile in return and held on to the pommel with white-knuckled hands. There was no pull of gravity toward the ground, only into the saddles. It was easy to figure that out, but the mind still blanched at the very notion.

And then the sand serpent was arching over and rushing toward the desert sands. The captain held fast to the reins and seemed to keep his balance easily, even when his serpent's head glided down a dune and its tail propelled it forward with huge, sand-spraying motions from left to right. Wind shrieked past us for an instant, whipping at hair and clothes, before the captain activated a shield to protect him and us from the wind and flying sand.

The barge shot forward like a loosed arrow; the desert flying past us on the right and red sandstone cliffs on the left. I prised my fingers from saddle pommel to see if I could keep my balance without holding on.

I could.

I felt an insane urge to grin at this roller-coaster-like ride.

"Glad to see thou'rt enjoying thyself!" Richard remarked.

My only answer was to laugh.

Then we reached the first of the sand dunes.

The _shem'lysie_ raised its head slightly, keeping its chin close to the ground, and ploughed straight through it with its plated forehead. Glittering grains of crimson sand slid over the shield in a red wave, then another as a second dune was passed.

"It's beautiful," I heard Julia say, and I couldn't help but to agree.

Beautiful and deadly.

The serpent kept going north all through the day. There was a water skin buckled to each saddle for our free use, and head coverings in case we wanted sun protection. We made use of both, and eventually the day turned to night.

***

By the light of five crescent moons, the sand turned a pale pink. The sand serpent's scales glinted softly as it sped on, fountains of pink grains flying in its wake. We'd discovered we could walk down between the saddles (thanks to the captain) with perfect ease, and after watching Richard sleep for a few hours I fell back to talk with Kra'lysie. She was staring north, waiting for the Tuay Mountains to appear. Moonlight shimmered off her red-gold hair and sunk her face in shadows, but her eyes gleamed.

"I'm coming home, Avatar," she murmured as I took the seat behind her. "You can't imagine what this feels like."

"I will, one day," I said softly.

I sensed her smile, and she half-turned to face me, then stopped and looked east across the desert where sunlight was creeping up the sky's edge. "Do you want to know why they are called the Tuay Mountains? The Red Mountains, Avatar?" She looked north again. "Watch."

I silently complied and waited.

The sun rose. A jagged edge of blazing crimson suddenly lanced across the northern sky like red lightning. It was the sunlight reflecting off the very edges of the mountaintops.

I stared in silent awe, imagining that this might be like the Aurora Borealis back on Earth. Although red was the dominant colour here, flickerings of gold, green and blue occasionally stood out like fragments of a splintered rainbow.

"It's amazing," I said.

Kra'lysie nodded slightly. "It's home."

And the _shem'lysie_ barge glided on across the sun-touched sands.

***

"Not long now," Dupre said.

Towering red cliffs stood in full sunlight just ahead of us. High up could be seen the dark shadows of cave openings.

I took hold of my impatience and sat down as the _shem'lysie_ smashed through another series of dunes. The creature hissed a breath of sand at a small rise of rocks it was forced to swim around.

"Passengers, sit, please!" the captain shouted.

The others obeyed, and the sand serpent slowed down. Then it lifted its head and neck up, rising higher and higher until it drew level with a huge cave. The captain tugged the reins a little and the serpent moved forwards, resting its head and the part of neck my companions and I sat astride onto the broad stone ledge outside the cave.

The captain lowered the shield and got down first, cautioning us to stay seated until he said otherwise.

I glanced over my shoulder at Kra'lysie. "_Well, we're here. Do you know where to look_?"

She blinked once, rousing herself from memories. "_Yes_."

"Ye can disembark!" the captain yelled. "I'll wait as long as ye need," he added when we stood before him and his massive serpent's head. "'Tis the Empress's own orders." He patted the broad nose of his animal. "We'll wait here." 

***

In contrast to the red mountains and sand outside, the caves were a very dark blue. They were dry and clear of sand, and the wind howled mournfully through the many holes it had hollowed out in the time the owners of the caves had been absent. They were, however, far from being empty. The huge bones of dragons littered the stone floors - sometimes forming near-complete skeletons. I noticed that all the heads were missing, and guessed they were kept as trophies or proof of kill. Maybe both. Other than the bones, however, the caves were empty.

Kra'lysie led us through a series of connecting caves, the Light spell she'd cast bobbing along at her shoulder. When we reached a rather large, pillared hall with a domed ceiling, she told us to stand back. "I've never done this before," she said, crossing to the centre of the cave. "But I've seen it done, in my youth." With a golden shimmer, she turned into a dragon. She spread her wings wide to touch the pillars, stood firm, raised her crested head and began to chant in her own tongue. Her deep voice rumbled through the room, echoed through caverns long silent.

The pillars started to glow a myriad of colours. So did Kra'lysie.

"_Come forward_," she sent to me, never faltering in her steady stream of words.

I nodded to my friends and we stepped between the pillars, into the shadow of the dragon.

And we all teleported.

***

"Where are we?" Julia wanted to know.

Kra'lysie shrugged her massive shoulders, then reared up and beat her wings. "I'll be right back." Beating again, she vanished into the darkness above.

The room looked the same, only no exits (just wall) and no roof (the walls went straight up into darkness. When I sent my sight up out of curiosity, I found nothing but black void). Strong bursts of wind came from the dragon's wings at first, then became fainter. We waited, and a brilliant white light flared from above.

I winced and instinctively shielded my eyes.

"I guess that would keep daemons from flying up there," Richard said, arching a brow at me.

I nodded, gritting my teeth until the light faded. "Feels like the Repel Undead spell. Stronger, though."

Kra'lysie descended with a large chest, bound with bronze, clenched in her fore-and-hindclaws. Carefully, she put it on the ground and landed, folding her wings. With a word, the chest opened and she took out a scroll the size of a rolled up bedsheet. "This is it," she said. "It's all in my language, so I'll search for the answers of any questions you may have."

"Can I remove the _aeth'raesh'al_," I asked promptly.

Kra'lysie scanned her scroll, then the others in the chest - five total. "There is one way - theoretical only," she said. "The more time you spend as an undead, the greater your power. It was thought that if an Old Self surpassed the power of the _aeth'raesh'al_, they can take the New Self's by force."

"But not their own?"

"Take off your own and you will die. It keeps you undead - and in existence. Besides, it's theoretical. It's never happened."

"That also rules out cutting off my arm, I guess."

"Virtues, don't be like that," Iolo chided.

"The good side is that if you die," Kra'lysie said, "Mellorin has seven Britannian days to find and wear your bracer, or she'll follow."

"What if Elora kills Mellorin?" Dupre asked.

"We both die," I murmured.

"So what if she killeth thee?"

"She takes my bracer, and I die."

"That's hardly fair."

"She's meant to be a perfect angel. Virtuous in every way."

Kra'lysie cleared her throat.

I sighed. "Sorry. Can you see anything in there that might help?"

The dragon glanced at the Lore again. "Not really."

"'Not really'?" Dupre exclaimed. "Five scrolls and there's nothing in there?"

Kra'lysie's crest flattened in anger. "These bracers were made to make good people, Knight! My people never knew that something like this would happen. This part of the Lore was written to help the _better New Self_, not the liche."

Dupre's attention was more focussed on the smoke wafting from her nose than her words.

"There weren't any emergency precautions?" Richard asked.

"No." Kra'lysie shook her head. "We all took oath that an evil _aeth'raesh'al_ would never be made. We take our oaths very, _very _seriously," she added, casting a look at Dupre that was half-defensive, half-daring. "Take our oath not to kill living, intelligent beings, for example. We didn't even break that one when it meant the virtual extinction of our race."

"Is it possible," Iolo asked, "that a dragon was captured and forced to just reveal how these things are made?"

"Even then, a dragon would have had to make it."

"Only dragons from this world?"

"I don't know," Kra'lysie said heavily. "I'm sorry, Avatar. It seems the only way you can win is to get Mellorin to give you her bracer, unless you want to stay undead long enough to try taking it."

"Any clue how long that _is_?" Julia asked.

Kra'lysie shook her head.

"If the worst comes to the worst," I said, "I'll kill her."

"Thou wilt die!" Iolo objected.

"Beyond return!" Kra'lysie added, also sounding upset.

I hesitated for a second, and nodded slowly. "Yes. But so will she." I raised a hand when they would have protested further. "If the worst comes to the worst."

***

It was a subdued group that rode the _shem'lysie_ barge back to the Castle of Flames. Some time after night had fallen, I heard Dupre asking Kra'lysie what she planned to do next.

"Thou hast fulfilled thy promise," he pointed out softly to avoid waking Richard and Iolo. Julia was sitting silently, keeping her own council.

"I know," the dragon-woman replied.

"Thou didst not choose to remain in the caves."

"I'm not going back to the castle to serve the Guardian with the other _kra'lysiei_, if that's what thou'rt implying," she shot back, lapsing into formal speech.

"Then what?"

I sat quietly in my seat, watching the _shem'lysie_'s head glide over the sand as I waited for the answer. Kra'lysie was free of me now that she'd guided us to the Dragonlore, as promised. But she no longer had a home here, and she knew it.

"Avatar?"

I looked left and up at her, a shadow crowned with a fiery halo as the moons behind her shone through her hair.

"I want to come back to Britannia with you,'' she said. "I want to help you fight the Guardian."

Gravely, I nodded once without speaking. She returned my acknowledgment of her request with a slight inclination of her head, then returned to her seat.

A moment passed, then I heard Dupre say, "Welcome to the esteemed ranks of those who follow the Avatar."

***

Day came and faded into night again before we returned to Krain Castle. We thanked the captain (and the sand serpent) for the ride before going over to a patrol of Imperial guards that seemed to be waiting for us. The Daughter-Heiress, Masel'sha, was with them.

After a long look at us, she asked if we had been successful.

After checking with my undead eyes that she was really who she look like, I nodded.

"My mother and brother expect us at the palace," she said, indicating that it would be safer to talk there. "If thou and thine are not too fatigued after the journey, wouldst ye come with me?"

My companions were, of course, tired, but they still wanted to come. Unless something kept us back, we'd be returning to Britannia tomorrow.

And preparing for war.

***

The only result of us telling the Imperial Family of our venture, findings and intentions to leave Atarka was for them to bid us good luck. I'd asked if they wanted to come with us, as Kra'lysie now was, but they declined and said that their place was in their world. This didn't amuse Kra'lysie, but she managed to hold her tongue for once. I saw this and nodded to myself. Perhaps she was learning.

We spent that night in guest quarters at the palace (the dragons insisted; they didn't want any assassinations) and left in the morning after a brief fare-thee-well.

Once outside the palace walls, I sent word to Shamino and Katrina.

"_Tell everyone to get ready. We're going home_."

***

"So where have ye been?" Shamino asked.

"And what's going on?" Katrina seconded. "Did ye see the Dragonlore?"

"We did," I nodded. "I'll let Iolo tell you about it, but we took oath not to tell about the palace, so don't ask."

Katrina nodded and turned to search for Iolo. Shamino looked disappointed. "Thou wouldst not even trust thy friends?"

"It's not a matter of trust, Shamino, but security. Out here, anyone can hear what we say."

Shamino glanced around, one brow arching. The whole group of Britannians were gathered in a sheltered desert cave the Empress had told me about. She'd had weapons stored here for all of us, and we would be able to teleport out without being seen. "Who is here that thou dost not trust?" the ranger asked.

"The Guardian." I grinned wryly and clapped his shoulder, then went to find Richard.

Finally, everyone was accounted for. I climbed atop a large, flat rock so I could see all of them clearly. An expectant hush came over them when they saw me. I gathered every eye, nodding to myself at what I saw. These people had passed through fire and, although not unscathed, they had lived. The pain and grief still lingered in their faces like shadows, but stronger were the looks of hope. The looks of determination.

"Are you ready to reclaim what is yours?" I asked them. "Are you ready to fight the Guardian?"

They left no doubt that they were. As their roar of assent echoed through the cave like thunder, I sent out the thought, "_Hear them Guardian. And hear me_."

I set the bracer for Britannia at the Shrine of Justice, then activated it. When everyone was enclosed within the shimmering field of teleportation, Atarka faded from view.

__

To be continued in Book Five of 

__

The Black Ankh…


	9. Interlude

_Interlude_   


  
Jyr had the misfortune of being left behind when the Avatar had magicked everyone from Serpent's Hold, but the good luck of only being discovered after the majority of the enemy had boarded their ships and sailed north. Had he been found earlier, he'd be a captive one of the ships bound for, well, he had no idea _where_, instead of locked within the somewhat more familiar dungeon of his home keep. This he'd been told by one of the hundred soldiers left to hold the Isle of Deeds. 

His relief had only lasted a day. Since he was the only prisoner, interrogation had begun almost at once. 

Where are the Britannians? Doth Serpent's Hold have any secret passages? Any secret rooms? Any caches of food or armaments? Why wert thou left behind? 

As a peasant boy of fourteen who didn't hold even the lowest position in the keep, Jyr could only answer the last. He'd been camping in the eastern part of the isle's forest and hadn't heard the dragonbone horn that was used to warn the populace of an attack. It was his own fault, he knew. He shouldn't have been camping in the first place. 

He'd taken full advantage of the orders that he was not to be killed and managed to pick the lock to his cell three times and even make it out of the keep once. He'd been caught, of course, but that was to be expected when one was on an island. The third time had been the last, when the man in charge of the soldiers - a hulking brute with red hair and dark, burning eyes - informed Jyr that 'alive' didn't mean 'unhurt', and had shown him a whip to get his point across. 

Two weeks after the evacuation, Jyr heard a clamour outside his cell and went to look through the barred window. He quickly backed up when three soldiers burst into the dungeon with drawn weapons. There were footsteps, keys jangling, then a creak of hinges as Jyr's door was opened. One of the soldiers - the same one that had threatened Jyr with the whip - advanced with his free hand extended. 

Jyr retreated, eyes wide and fearful. 

"Get here, human!" the soldier shouted, which only added to his confusion and terror. 

There were only so many places one could hide in a small stone cell, however, and Jyr soon found himself held with one arm pinned behind his back and a sword at his throat. Half carried from the cell, he realised what was going on when he recognised the two ragged knights who suddenly crashed through the dungeon door with a brown-haired, green-eyed woman and a blond-bearded man. 

Gaping at the last two, who could only be the Avatar and Lord British from all the pictures he'd seen of them, Jyr almost dropped to his knees in relief before he realised such an act would end in his own decapitation. 

"No closer!" the soldier holding him shouted. 

His two companions lunged forwards but were quickly dispatched by the knights. 

"Your garrison is dead," the Avatar said, folding her arms and gracing the man with a cool look. "And so are you, I see." 

"I'll kill him," the soldier shouted. Jyr felt the steel bite into his neck. 

"Release him and I won't kill _you_." She paused. "No human here will." 

He had to believe her - she was the Avatar! Sure enough, Jyr was shoved forward and into Lord British. 

"You might regret your decision, Avatar," the soldier sneered, and Jyr's eyes widened in horror as the man's form expanded, wings tearing from shoulders and head becoming a laughing skull. "Letting me go to spare a whelp. But I believe you." It bowed mockingly. 

The Avatar gestured to the door. "After you." She followed the daemon out, the knights, king and Jyr following. 

"Your Majesty," Jyr whispered, almost afraid to speak to the great Lord of Britannia, "is she letting a daemon go, milord?" 

Blue eyes regarded him wryly. "She is, yes." 

"But-" 

Lord British touched a finger to his lips and Jyr fell silent. 

Britannians flooding the halls were cheering the liberation of their keep until they saw the daemon and its grim escort. They fell in behind as the small party went on towards the gate where a red-gold-haired lady in scarlet scale armour was observing the results of the battle with a critical gaze. By now, all the Britannians were following in an expectant silence, and the daemon looked nervous. 

"Go," the Avatar said when they reached the gate. 

The daemon stepped outside, turning to watch the Britannians with distrust as it backed slowly away, wings spreading. 

The Avatar glanced at the red-armoured woman. "It's all yours," she said with a smile. 

"You said..!" the daemon began, then broke off as the woman stepped into the gateway, its glowing eyes almost starting from its head. Shrieking something in its own tongue, the daemon spun and leaped into the air. 

The woman ran after it, a sudden golden aura infusing her body as she _also_ changed shape, but not into a daemon. The great red-gold dragon's jaws snapped once, and it was over. 

"The keep is thine," Lord British was saying to the Gargish knight Sir Horffe as the dragon landed outside. "I, the Avatar and our friends must return to the Isle of Fire." 

Horffe nodded. "To understand, your Majesty. To ask if we can help in any way?" 

"Any armour would be appreciated." 

"The armoury hath been cleaned out, my Lord," another knight informed him. "The invaders took everything." 

"Um..." Jyr cleared his throat and raised one hand. "Are there any hidden armouries?" 

The Avatar said, "Yes, of course... I have no idea where they are, but there used to be such rooms. How didst _thou_ know about them?" 

"They questioned me about them, milady." 

"To open them," Horffe said. He took two knights and left. 

"Thanks for the light entertainment," the red-armoured woman said to the Avatar as she re-entered the keep. Golden eyes regarded Jyr for a second then turned away, uninterested. 

"No problem," the Avatar said. She asked Jyr for his name, then, "Thinkest thou that thou canst tell us thy story, Jyr? What happened here in Serpent's Hold?" 

He told her everything, forgetting in his excitement to add the usual embellishments. 

"The Isle of Fire, Elora," Lord British murmured. 

The Avatar nodded and looked at the dragon-woman. "Kra'lysie, can you make it with seven of us?" 

One brow arched. "We'll find out." 

"Thou hast done us a service, Jyr," Lord British said. "Can we do aught for thee before departing?" 

"I think," the boy replied self-consciously, "that saving my life was repayment enough. I'd appreciate it if ye chased those Guardian-lovers out of Britannia, though." 

The king chuckled approvingly. "We're working on it." 

The Avatar, however, looked as though she wanted to do a lot more than chase. 


	10. Death's Avatar

**Book Five of The Black Ankh**   
_by Shadow of Light Dragon, aka Laura Campbell_

_My blade's a shard of midnight sky,   
It holdeth Death's own sting.   
None may stand before its power,   
No creature, man or king. _

I ride on wings of crimson flame,   
My steed a beast of yore.   
Faster than the winds of night   
We streak o'er sea and shore. 

  
Born to wage and end all war   
We are, my mount and I.   
Our shadow flees 'cross forest... field...   
And all beneath it die. 

The flight was made easier due to strong winds blowing up from the south. Kra'lysie was able to lock her great wings and glide along the currents of air almost effortlessly; her magic working against the combined weight of seven humans on her back and the rather large crate of armaments in her claws Sir Horffe had pressed us to take. 

Invisible again, the only things to see were the blue-green waters rolling beneath us. The scenery here was a stark contrast to what we'd lived through on the world of Atarka with its seemingly limitless desert of sands the colour of fire, and barely a drop of water in any of it. 

It occurred to my wandering thoughts that you'd have just as much trouble being stranded out on the ocean. It merely meant changing from being dry to being wet. And being half-crazy that you were surrounded by water yet unable to drink it. 

"Look!" Julia's voice rang out. "Sea serpents off to our right!" 

I looked and quickly located two series of scaly humps rising above the waves. When I sent my sight in for a closer look I saw what they were doing. "They're picking over a ship. I can see a few floating boards." 

"Any survivors?" Dupre shouted. 

"Not that I can see. There's not much debris, so I'm guessing the wreck is at least a day old. The serpents probably pulled it down themselves." 

Kra'lysie flew on and the sight quickly vanished in the distance. 

A while later, ships could be seen on the horizon ahead of us. A fleet. Most were merchantmen, a few seemed to be former pirate ships, and, when I took a closer look, I noticed all of them flying the flags of the Guardian. 

"I just told Draxinusom about it," Richard shouted, which made me jump as I was sitting right in front of him. "He said he knoweth, and that he hath everything under control." 

"What was that?" Dupre shouted. 

I telepathed it to him. 

"So what hath he done?" the knight asked. 

"He said we'd find out when we get there," Richard answered. 

"Are those the same ships from Serpent's Hold, dost thou think?" 

I thought back to them, "_No way to be sure, but I doubt it. More likely those ships went to drop off their prisoners... at the Isle of the Avatar, perhaps._" 

We fell silent as the distance between us and the ships decreased. When we passed over them, I noticed only a few soldiers on the decks. Not many at all, even though it was day and the sails unfurled. Another glance showed me that all the ships sailed low in the water, meaning they were carrying heavy loads. I wondered how much of the cargo was siege equipment. 

"They'll have a hard time invading the isle if our cannons are ready," Julia shouted when we'd left the ships a considerable distance behind. "One way into the bay, no room to turn once they start down the channel, and they only have cannons port and starboard." 

"They'll have it harder than you think," the dragon rumbled, her voice loud enough for all of us. "The Gargoyle Lord has been busy." 

Soon, we could see that for ourselves. 

The jagged mountains of the Isle of Fire rose up below us. I could easily see what was on the towers surmounting either side of the cliff-lined passage into the bay. Not only were there four cannons per tower (two each facing south and another two each pointed down into the channel) and several people to arm them, but a total of ten mages were up there as well. Unless there were mages with the ships, the enemy would have a hard time both fighting and defending against the towers. The height would give them incredible range and protection. 

"Drax hath fixed another little surprise," Lord British said from just behind me. "Don't ask me how he managed it, but there are chains stretched between the cliffs just below the water." 

I was impressed. 

Kra'lysie locked and tilted her wings so that we glided around the western edge of the island, our altitude steadily decreasing. Finally, she reached a point above the fort and dropped carefully to the stone roof, crushing one side of the crate of armaments under a hindclaw. 

I'd warned those on guard what was going to happen, but some of them still jumped when a large red dragon appeared with several famous personages on her back and a good portion of the contents of Serpent's Hold's armoury glittering in the sun at her feet. We climbed down as Lord Draxinusom ascended the stairs to the battlements with a pair of human warriors, and Kra'lysie resumed her human shape. 

Draxinusom looked relieved to see us all safe. Indeed, the first thing he said to us, to Lord British, was, "To be glad. To be _very_ glad." 

"Believest thou me," Richard replied dryly, "thou'rt not the only one." 

The two monarchs grinned at each other. 

***

"To say Trinsic has surrendered. To know only the Lycaeum and Castle Britannia stand." The Gargoyle Lord let out a sigh and drummed the long nails of one hand on his chair arm. "To be happy we have Serpent's Hold back." 

"Knowest thou what happened to the people of Trinsic?" Richard asked. "Hast thou seen?" 

"To have not seen. To tell you the enemy has raised scrying shields over each city it's conquered, except Minoc. To add that a shield has also gone up on the Isle of the Avatar." 

"When did this start?" I asked. 

"Six days ago." 

"Eight days after we left Britannia," Iolo murmured. 

"Has any teleporting been sensed?" I asked, frowning. 

Draxinusom shook his head. 

"She could be on another world," Shamino suggested. 

"No," I said. "She's in Britannia." 

"Thou'rt sure?" 

"If I was about to invade one of the last resisting strongholds of a world, _I'd_ sure want to be there and make sure it succeeds." I smiled slightly. "She's with the ships." 

"How dost thou know she won't just teleport into the fort?" Julia inquired. "She doth have the Blacksword." 

"I don't," I admitted. "But how else are they going to break into the bay? The daemons can't without revealing themselves. And if their mages are still on the Isle of the Avatar she has to be with the ships 'cause she can't just teleport onto them." 

Draxinusom nodded. "To reveal this last precaution. To say that if the towers fail, they can be collapsed to block the channel." 

"Collapsed?" Dupre asked sharply as we exchanged glances. "How?" 

"With the help of a lot of strategically placed powder kegs," Kra'lysie murmured. When everyone looked at her, she shrugged. "I saw them on the way in." 

"To compliment the lady on her perception." Draxinusom inclined his head. "To say the mages on the towers are capable of transporting their companions to safety and rigging the kegs to explode." 

A few held breaths were let out. There was no doubt that we all hoped it wouldn't come to that. 

But if Mellorin was with the ships, as I suspected, it probably would. 

***

The following days were all spent in preparation, in case the enemy somehow managed to get past all Draxinusom's defences. Light ballistae were set up along the cliffs inside the bay, and niches hewn into the rock to accommodate more archers. We relied mostly on those in the towers to watch the enemy fleet when they reached the Isle of Fire. The attack didn't begin at once, though, and the ships remained carefully out of range of the watchtowers' cannons. Our mages were able to bridge the distance with some offensive spells, but even the massive Magic Storm they summoned with their combined powers, and directly over the ships, appeared to do little damage. Something, or someone, was protecting the fleet from magical attack. 

Further scrying seemed to reveal the enemy was waiting for more ships coming from the southeast - from Moonglow, which meant we had a few more days. 

These were spent training. Everyone who couldn't fight was teleported to Ambrosia... or almost everyone. Disaster struck just when we most needed the pads as a possible escape route. Someone came back to the Isle of Fire to tell us a huge storm had gathered right over Ambrosia, and the receiving pad, being outside, had been blasted. Natural or not, it meant our backdoor and primary escape route was shut tight until - if - the pad could be repaired. 

For those of us who knew, such thoughts were kept at bay during the seemingly endless practice bouts. While my companions presided over one or two forms of training each, I went between _all_ of them. Mace, axe, sword, dagger, staff, spear, bow, crossbow, shield, magic and even _tare-por_, the Gargish boomerang. 

But even with five hundred and seventy hand-to-hand fighters, two hundred ranged and fifty mages, I couldn't shake the feeling that all the preparation would be unnecessary. Now and then, Mellorin's words about our duel would come to mind and each time it did, I knew this battle would not be between two armies. 

So I was training too. Made certain I knew some new tricks. Mellorin knew everything I had when she'd formed her own separate being, and I'd only be able to best her if I had a few surprises. 

And the same went for her. 

During a break, I found a quiet spot and sat down. Leaning back against the wall of the fort, I made it look like my eyes were closed then sent my magical sight south to the enemy ships. After a short search I found my double standing in the bow of one of the few vessel that looked like it was built for war, just looking at the entrance to the bay with a hungry expression. 

"_There you are_," I thought. 

She actually jumped and looked around. When I laughed, she quickly calmed herself and smiled, face lifting to the sunlight and eyes closing. Instead of demanding how I'd got to the Isle of Fire ahead of her without teleporting, she replied, "_Are you ready_?" 

"_We've been cooling our heels waiting for you to attack for a couple of days now. We're ready._" 

The smile on her face widened a fraction. "_That wasn't my question, Elora. Are _you_ ready_?" 

"_I am._" 

"_Good. See you soon._" 

***

Later that day I sought out Lord British to discuss the only other option of evacuation we had - the _aeth'raesh'al_ bracer. Without the Virtue Stones or moongates, and with the teleport pad to Ambrosia broken, the bracer was all we had if the fight went badly. 

I found him alone in his small room in the Test of Truth. He was sitting at a table, dressed in plain clothes, and reading a book by the light of a sole candle. When he motioned for me to come in, I noticed it was written in the Gargish language. 

"One of Draxinusom's," he said when I quirked a brow at it, and showed me the cover. Although I was fluent in speaking Gargish, my reading skills were a little rusty. When I admitted as much, he smiled. "All the documents I get from Terfin keep me in practice. It's called-" He glanced at the runes on the cover. "-'Gold Hawk's Passage'. Gold Hawk - that's the name of the gargoyle main character - doth leave the Gargish lands and travelleth up through Dungeon Hythloth to visit Britannia." He marked the place he was at with a thin strip of leather and put it down on the table. "I'm just up to the part when he hath started to grow his wings, unfortunately during a spot of mountain climbing in the Serpent's Spine. Drax said it's based on a true story." 

I smiled and sat down on a stool. "I'll ask him if I can borrow it once you're done." 

He chuckled slightly. "So. We were going to talk about alternate escape routes. I take it that bracer of thine is our only option?" 

I nodded, my face clouding. "And I doubt it will actually help unless we use it to leave Britannia altogether." 

The king leaned back in his chair and frowned. "Hm. Mellorin can sense thee teleport if she's in the same world as thy destination." I nodded again and he drummed his fingers on the cover of the book, his frown deepening. "I don't relish leaving Britannia again." 

"Not so soon after we've returned," I agreed softly. "And there's nowhere large enough in any of the Tests to gather everyone we have in one place safely and teleport away. If Ambrosia were open to us that would be another matter." 

"But then, if Ambrosia were open to us, we wouldn't be in this position." 

I smiled wryly and inclined my head. 

Lord British gazed at the solitary candle, its flame dancing in his blue eyes. Very softly, he said, "I won't leave Britannia again." His eyes flicked up to mine. "I will not abandon it." 

I looked at his careworn face, shadowed on one side and burnished gold by the candle on the other, and allowed a sigh to escape me. "There was one other thing I wanted to talk to thee about." My shift to formal speech made his brow furrow, but he waited silently for me to continue. "It's about Britannia. Of our connection to it, and its to us." 

We had spoken of this once before, a very long time ago, when I'd become the Avatar. As much as the legends liked to state otherwise, I hadn't been transported back to Earth after reaching the Codex of Ultimate Wisdom. My companions and I had, among other things, returned to Castle Britannia to announce the triumphant success of the Quest of the Avatar. There had been feasts of celebration and many long discussions with Richard about the nature of the Virtues, which he'd tried so hard to instill into the hearts of his people. 

He had told me then of how he'd come to truly be the Lord of Britannia. It had not been a simple succession, or rise to political power - he'd been through almost as many adventures as I had. When Sosaria had been torn apart back during the Ages of Darkness, Richard had been instrumental in keeping his lands - Britannia - intact. 'Bearer of the White Light' wasn't just a pretty title he'd been given. In protecting Britannia from crumbling into the Void, he'd agreed to have his very life linked to the land. The most powerful mages and druids of the age had worked to make Lord British one with Britannia. And they had, to an extent, succeeded. 

But the burden was too much for one man, even one with the great powers and seeming immortality that Lord British possessed. The Quest of the Avatar was established not only to set up a system of virtues and find a champion for the people, but to find one strong enough to share the burden of Britannia's very essence. He had told me this after my friends and I had returned victorious from the Abyss. He'd indicated the golden Ankh I wore and asked if I was prepared to shoulder the life of Britannia as well as my own. If I could dedicate myself and my life to his people and his land. 

I thought of it as my land, now. And its people my friends, though some were as dear to me as blood-kin. 

I had said I was prepared. 

"The Head and the Heart of Britannia," Richard murmured at last, both bringing me back to the present and brightening my memory of the past. He'd said the exact same thing all those years ago... "I've been wondering, thou knowest," he added, watching me. "When thou sacrificed thyself at Serpent's Hold... during the week before thy return, I wondered why Britannia hadn't collapsed and fallen to pieces. I felt not the slightest difference. It was as if thou wert still alive." 

"Mellorin," I said softly, and he nodded. "Richard, Kra'lysie said that if I kill Mellorin I will also die in that instant. Thou... you have never told me what will happen if I die. If I really die." I smiled faintly. "You've always been there to bring me back, but this time..." I gestured at the bracer, not needing to explain further, and looked at him. "What will happen?" 

He sighed and ran a hand through his blond beard. "In fact, I don't know. In _theory_... Can one live without a beating heart?" 

I thought of my own undeath for a moment, then dismissed it. This was not life, and arguably worse than death. It was decay and hopelessness. I hid a shiver. "And what if _thou_ wert to die?" 

He regarded me quietly. "It is the same question, Elora. Perhaps it's one of the reasons why the Guardian hath always had such an interest in us." 

I said nothing, remembering Mellorin's ultimatum the first time I'd 'met' her to surrender or die. Neither choice held much hope for Britannia's continued existence. 

Not that I intended to choose between the options she'd given me. 

***

My companions and I held a meeting elsewhere in the fort after sunset. The ships from the southeast were coming fast, which meant the battle would begin soon. 

"What's going to make it hardest for them," Dupre said, "if they get in, is the channel itself. It's only wide enough for one ship to sail down." 

"And the ship that doth will stand no chance," Iolo said. "Archers are stationed at optimum positions around the bay, we have light ballistae on either side of the cliffs-" 

"With burning spears," Dupre put in. "They'll set fire to and sink the enemy ships." 

"That meaneth the other ships will have to find a way past without catching fire themselves," Lord British observed. "If they all come down the channel one after another, they'll be forced to stop for lack of room to come about. They'll be sitting ducks." 

Iolo nodded. "And if any soldiers abandon ship and reach shore..." he mimed sighting down a crossbow and loosing a bolt. "Though it will actually be the archers along the cliffs. Those with crossbows will be staying atop the fort; our range isn't as great as that of a longbow." 

"So there's nothing to do but wait?" Shamino asked. 

"The enemy are waiting," I said. "Those ships that came from Trinsic, the ones just south of the isle right now, made very good speed getting here. Someone's used magic for that." I paused. "Mellorin is with them." 

"Thou art sure, then?" Lord British asked. 

"I saw her with my own-" I broke off mid-sentence, belatedly remembering that I didn't currently _have_ eyes. "I saw her." 

We were silent for a minute, then Shamino asked, "What do they have on their ships?" 

Iolo blinked. "Hast thou not been listening?" 

The ranger shook his head irritably. "Of course. But hast thou not been _looking_? Not every one of those frigates hath soldiers lolling about on her decks, yet they all ride low in the water. They're all carrying about the same weight." 

"Siege equipment, perhaps," Dupre said, though he frowned at the question. 

"But Mellorin can blast through walls herself," Shamino pointed out. "We saw that much at Serpent's Hold. Why would they need siege equipment? And don't say 'in case she doth get tired', because she hath the Blacksword. We know it can renew her magical powers." 

Everyone exchanged glances and no one had an answer. 

***

All the ships had reached the Isle of Fire and gathered south of the towers, just out of range. Our defences were ready. Ballistae were manned, archers and crossbowpeople in their positions along the cliffs and on the battlements of the fort. Within, every warrior was armed and where they were meant to be. Each group had at least one mage to aid with their magic. 

I stood on the battlements with Iolo, Shamino, Dupre, Julia, Katrina, Kra'lysie, Lord British and Lord Draxinusom. We waited together for the first ship to approach the towers. They were silent as I watched the enemy with my sight. One of the ships, the one Mellorin was on, was pointed bow-first into the watery passage, but not moving. The sun was high before anything more happened. 

Mellorin came out on deck with the Blacksword. She looked up at the sky once and smiled, as if she knew I'd be watching. With slow, measured steps, she crossed the deck to the forecastle, then stood behind the bowsprit to face the channel. Her right hand reached back over her shoulder and drew the Shade Blade, which she gripped in both hands and pointed at one of the towers. 

"She's going to try and take out one of the tower's people with the Blacksword," I said to my friends standing by me on the roof of the fort. 

"Is the blade that powerful?" Lord British's voice asked. "And at that distance?" 

"I honestly don't know. I never tested Arcadion's range with his Fire magic, and never across water." But I sent a quick warning to those in both towers. 

As I returned to watch Mellorin, I felt her gathering her magic again. Not just Arcadion's, not even just her own. The _Guardian_ was helping her! Shimmering waves of ether rolled off her body like steam, and cold blue flames erupted down the length of the Blacksword. She wasn't going to merely take out the people in the tower the Shade Blade was levelled at. 

She was going to blow it up. 

"_FIRE_!" Mellorin thundered, and the daemon sword sent a gigantic ball of flames roaring towards the eastern tower. 

"_GET OUT_!" I shouted, my sight jerking back to my body as a succession of explosions shook the island. The powder kegs detonated along the inside of the cliffs with great echoing bangs, filling the channel with dust and smoke. There was a deafening crash of rocks that made everyone duck just before shrapnel sliced the air with whizzing sounds. Several people around the bay's cliffs screamed as they were hit. It seemed ages before quiet returned. I glanced over the battlements, expecting to see a rocky barrier... a bay with no exit. 

And saw instead a ship making its stately course up a perfectly clear channel. 

"How..?" I whispered, then let out a snarl of frustration and hit the battlements with a fist. 

I thought I could hear a familiar chuckle. 

"Seven of our people are down," Iolo noted, his jaw clenching as he indicated the still forms that had toppled from the cliffs. He wiped blood from a gash in his forehead. 

"They won't be the only ones," Dupre said grimly. He touched his friend's shoulder. "After a fall like that, though, at least they died quickly. Pity those who were on the towers." 

The old bard nodded. "They didn't escape?" 

Both of them looked at me. 

I shook my head wordlessly. 

"Who's on the first ship?" Shamino asked. 

"Mellorin," I said, my voice soft. 

"Damn," Iolo muttered. "I didn't expect this, and it looks like the explosions fouled Lord Draxinusom's chains." He turned to a mage. "Pass word to the archers and ballistae not to fire upon the first ship." 

"I'm only dead if _I_ kill her, Iolo," I reminded him. 

"But if we torch the ship..." he left the sentence unfinished. 

Mellorin's bracer would open only at Mellorin's command. If she was dead and her body destroyed, I'd be stuck as a liche. Forever. 

"I don't like this," he added moodily. "She's not stupid. She must have seen our defences and know we'll sink every ship coming behind her, so what's her plan? She'll be cut off from her army and at our complete mercy!" 

"She's not stupid," I echoed. "Wait, something's happening on her ship. I'll take a look." 

A hatch in the deck had been opened, and two soldiers descended. A minute later they had emerged with an elderly man wearing once-fine clothes. Manacles bound him hand and foot, and he blinked at the brightness of the sun as he was dragged out. I mentally caught my breath. A prisoner? 

The hatch remained open, almost invitingly, and I entered. 

The hold was filled with Britannian hostages, chained together in the darkness and their own filth like what one would find on a pirate slaveship. _Trinsic_, I thought, fighting my mounting horror at the sight around me. I recognised a few faces. These people were from Trinsic. 

I flew from the hold and down the channel to the rest of the fleet. They were also bringing a few hostages onto their decks. Open warnings to any mage who watched. If we sank these ships, we'd be killing our own people. 

"Virtues," I whispered, returning to the fort. "I found out what those ships are carrying." 

When I told them, my friends stared at me in disbelief. Iolo was first to recover, and quickly told the mage on the battlements with us to tell everyone on the cliffs to pull back into the fort. We wouldn't be firing upon any of the ships, and he didn't want his people shot down by the enemy. 

And it went unsaid that we wouldn't be using the bracer to evacuate. We would not abandon Britannia. 

Once again, we waited in silence for events to unfold. 

***

The sun was setting by the time the enemy ships had all entered the bay in groups of five, unloaded and withdrawn. Approximately five hundred Britannian hostages lined the shore in chains, all down on their knees with an armed guard at either shoulder, two more large groups of the Guardian's warriors flanking them. There were additional prisoners and soldiers still on the ships - this was just a good-sized group to fit on the small shore of the Isle of Fire. 

At length, Shamino, Dupre and Kra'lysie went downstairs to the courtyard. Iolo, Katrina, Julia, Lords British and Draxinusom and I watched the scene below without speaking, not knowing what to do. An open battle and those Britannians would be used as human shields. If we teleported to somewhere else in this world, Mellorin would follow. To another world, and we abandoned both the hostages and Britannia. 

It was Mellorin's move, but she hadn't disembarked that I had seen. Her forces waited, only moving to stop anyone who tried to stand, resist or crawl away. 

Then... 

A frown crossed Lord British's face and his eyes widened slightly as he turned to look at me. "Didst thou feel it?" 

I could feel the hairs on the back of my neck rising as though a chill wind had suddenly blown across the battlements. "A surge of ether," I whispered. Realisation dawned on me. Mellorin had used Arcadion to teleport into the fort! Ripping my own sword free of its scabbard, I ran for the stairs and flew down to the courtyard. Warriors jumped out of my way and flattened themselves against the stone walls with startled exclamations as I passed. Clearing the bottom steps with a jump, I quickly reached the forge and was soon looking at my double. 

She was wearing chain mail, a black cloak, leather boots, a bracer to match my own... and a black Ankh at her throat. 

Mellorin's green eyes gazed at me without expression. "Let's go." Facing the portcullis, she gestured with the Blacksword and vanished. 

I Blinked after her and was soon looking at her again, though on the grassy grounds outside the fort. We stood halfway between the Guardian's army and one of Britannia's last defences. 

Mellorin faced me and her familiar features twisted into a cold smile. "Surrender or die?" she asked. 

"If you really were me once," I replied, "You'd know what my answer would be." 

She laughed. "Neither?" 

"Not only neither, but another." I lifted my blade and stood ready, the stance being one of open defiance. "I choose victory, Mellorin. All Britannia stands against you and you can't hope to defeat us." 

Shifting the Blacksword in her hands, she said, "You don't _have_ another choice. This land only needs one Avatar, and I am she." 

"Is that what that Ankh is for?" 

"I have to look the part," she said with a sadistic grin. "Besides, this is what was created when the bracer freed me. The Ankh has a mind too, you know, but whereas yours is a symbol of Life, mine is of Death. Ironic, considering that you're the one who's dead and I'm living." 

"Not for long," I whispered. 

She laughed once more then leaped to the attack, slashing at me with the Blacksword. 

I parried, and thus ensued a frightening display of swordplay at its best. The blinding gleam of sunlight off steel as it whirled through the air in glittering arcs of death, the whistle of blades slicing pieces out of the sky, the shattering crash as they crossed or glanced against a hilt or bracer - we were each other's match, each other's mirror. As we paused for a second standing _corps a corps_, we met each other's eyes and both acknowledged that fact. 

"Surrender or die, Elora?" she whispered, panting a little. Her green eyes were alight like those of a hunting cat. "_You_ can't hope to defeat _me_." 

My grip stayed firm on the hilt of the _mezzin_ sword. "I've done it many times before." 

"You think an internal battle is any comparison to this?" She gave a short, breathless laugh and I saw her muscles tense as her hands clenched tighter around Arcadion. "When it comes to meeting me in a physical fight, you're out of your league. You can't win." 

I met her predatory gaze steadily and replied in a calm voice. "Watch me." 

Arcadion shrieked past my ear, fire rippling up the blade. I blocked, initiated a Flameshield and ducked, sweeping my sword at her legs. She jumped and brought her weapon down at my skull with both hands as she descended. I caught her stroke, rising to face her again. 

"What are you going to do? Try and kill me?" she demanded. "You'll die if you do that." 

"You first." 

"Oh, this is rich. You'd die to protect Britannia, but if you _do_ die, Britannia dies with you." 

"Better dead than serving the Guardian," I replied, my voice almost a snarl. I lashed out with a booted foot but she saw it coming and grabbed it at the ankle, lifting. I flipped completely over and brought my sword up in a diagonal slice across her chest. She dodged back and hacked at my shoulder, missed by a hair's breadth and managed to parry a potentially fatal stroke I'd aimed at her neck. 

Neither of us had so much as drawn blood from the other. 

"Which is stronger, the darkness or the light?" Mellorin asked. 

I readied myself. "Let's find out." 

With a resounding ring of steel, the greatest duel ever seen on this world began. 

I fought with all the skill, strength and courage I had. We battled back and forth across the field, my sword blurring in my hands as I attacked, defended, feinted, attacked again. She gave back as good as she got - a lethal whirlwind as she spun about with Arcadion in her hands and death in her eyes. 

And the peoples of two worlds watched. 

For hours the fight raged. I'd been keeping track, knowing that my living adversary would begin to tire...and she did. I pressed my advantage and attempted to drive her back towards the fort. She gave ground grudgingly, retreating step by step and assuming a more defensive tactic. 

Then she faltered for the barest instant and my sword stabbed into her right shoulder. 

She grunted with pain and lurched back, the Blacksword whipping around in retaliation. The only reason it hit me was because I never saw it coming. 

I couldn't see. 

My vision had vanished in an angry flash of red when I'd drawn Mellorin's blood. When she drew mine, the pain was soon to follow. There was a roaring surge in my head and a crippling pain in my chest as a heart that hadn't beat for weeks frantically started pumping again. Then it felt like fire searing through every vein as circulation began. With a cry of pain I fell back, barely holding onto my weapon. There was nothing to see beyond the red-shot blackness, nothing to hear past the deafening pounding within my skull, nothing to feel but white-hot agony. I was...helpless. 

Mellorin didn't attack, not even when I'd dropped to the ground, lacking the strength to stand. I retained wits enough only to cover the bracer with my left hand. She'd have to chop me to pieces if she wanted to take it from me. 

"You've lost, Elora." 

I felt footsteps nearby. This time, Mellorin's voice was right beside me. 

"Even now you won't admit it." She sounded vaguely disgusted. "But you will." Chill steel touched the side of my face and I felt pain, _real_ pain, as it sliced a thin gash from brow to jaw. I could almost feel her disappointment when I didn't flinch away or make a sound. "You look strange with no eyes." 

An involuntary shudder ran through me. Alive at last...how, I'd no idea, but what a sight I must be after my time of being undead. 

"Surrender and all the pain will end." 

I closed my eyes and folded in on myself, muscles cramping as though I hadn't used them in ages. My lips moved in a soundless whisper. _Never_. 

"Poor Avatar." She sliced at me again and I didn't dare move my hands to fend her off. I was sure that if I did, she'd snatch off my bracer before I had a chance to do anything. "What has Britannia brought you to but pain and despair? Yet you still try to defend it." Her voice whispered into my ear, "Surrender." 

_No_. 

I sensed her back away and when she next spoke, her voice came from above me and it was a shout to all on the Isle of Fire. "You've had your chance. Here's what's going to happen now: I'm going to walk back to my lines and start executing Britannians with the Blacksword. And I won't stop until I hear Britannia say, 'I surrender'." Her voice lowered. "You are Britannia, Elora? If Britannia doesn't surrender, Britannia will die." 

She walked away and I felt each footstep as if it were a beating of my own heart, each one bringing her closer to the slaughter of the people I'd sworn to protect. 

She had to die. _Now_. 

I blinked furiously...futilely. I concentrated, hands pressed to the earth and ears straining to hear anything that would tell me where Mellorin was. 

"You won't be able to see the deaths, Elora," her voice called. "But, by the Guardian, you'll hear them." 

There was a wet, tearing sound and a shriek of pain. 

"Surrender." 

_Virtues, NO_! 

A second deathcry tore the air, cutting me deeper than any physical wound. 

"Surrender." 

_I cannot - Britannia will die_! 

A third. 

"Surrender." 

I gasped, coughed once and shuddered as the life-force I'd taken from Mellorin drained away, spent. My heart stopped and a wrenching pain stabbed through me as the bracer returned me to a state of undeath. As another scream echoed against the mountains of the Isle of Fire, all pain vanished and sight returned. 

"Surrender." 

Green eyes blazing, I gained my feet and found Mellorin. As she casually plunged the Blacksword into the chest of another hostage, I gathered my strength, pointing my sword at her back. It would only take one Death Bolt to end her life. 

And mine. 

I paused for a dreadful instant, unsure of what to do. Would Britannia perish if I died? I could almost hear the Guardian laughing. If I die, Britannia dies. If I surrender, Britannia dies. If Mellorin kills everyone, Britannia dies. 

"At least I can make sure _you_ die," I whispered, and prepared myself. 

"I surrender!" 

Mellorin spun around as I did, both of us lifting our eyes to the battlements of the fort to see the one who had spoken those words. 

"_Richard, no! What are you doing_?" 

The Lord of Britannia looked down at me from his vantage point. Even at this distance, I could see the pain his words had caused him. "_Shouldst thou die, Britannia dies with thee. We would be lost and I cannot let that happen. Thou must live, Avatar, for we have no hope without thee_." 

I knew what he was proposing. He would stay here and I would take whomever I could to another world until such time came that we could return. "_She'll kill you_." 

"_Should she do that_-" 

"_I'll return and have you resurrected before Britannia can die_." 

He nodded once, believing without asking how I'd manage it. "_Go, Avatar. Take thy companions and leave. Then return to us_." 

Without a second's hesitation, I lowered my head and Blinked toward the portcullis as it opened to receive the enemy. 

"_Take them_!" Mellorin shouted, and those who weren't holding the hostages charged across the field. 

I quickly raised my illusions again and dashed inside, shouting for my friends. Dupre, Shamino and Kra'lysie were at my side in an instant and we all ran for the stairs to the battlements where we were joined by Iolo, Julia and Katrina. 

"Take all the people thou canst," Lord British said as I reached his side. "Thou wilt need all the help thou canst get against the invaders." 

As Dupre shouted for those lining the battlements to come over, Draxinusom came to me with twenty soldiers and ten archers from the courtyard below. "To be coming." The Gargoyle King faced Lord British and some silent communication passed between them. 

The latter smiled, ignoring the sound of armoured boots pounding on the stairs. In Gargish, he said, "May persistence and precision lead you to success, my friend." 

The first enemy soldiers appeared at the top of the stairs and, as those too slow to join us in the jump between worlds threw down their weapons, I randomly selected a world jewel, then a facet...and the world turned to clear jelly. 

As if in slow motion, I saw two soldiers subdue the unresisting Lord British, and the others disarm those who were still on guard. Even though none of them seemed to see me or the others I was teleporting, Richard's eyes were fixed on me. 

"_I'm sorry_," I whispered. 

He smiled, seemingly unaware of his hands being forced behind his back. 

"_I will return_." 

"_I know thou wilt_." 

Two voices had given that answer. As Britannia faded from view, I looked down at the field and could clearly see Mellorin gazing at me, eleven Britannians dead at her feet and her expression a mix of triumph and anger. 

When I turned my eyes back to Lord British, he was being forced down the stairs. He glanced back at me once - a single, piercing look of complete trust - before everything vanished in a whirl of light-shot shadows. 

Britannia was in the Guardian's hands. 

***

Thunder crashed in a deafening cataclysm directly above us. Rain slashed our faces from the night sky and chill wind buffeted us. Draxinusom's voice rang out over the tempest, telling us to find shelter. 

"Stay in threes," Dupre shouted. "Don't get separated!" 

"Wait!" I looked around with my enhanced vision, temporarily pushing aside the memories of my recent failure. Crouching, I touched the rain-slick flagstones we stood on. "We're on a building - maybe the roof of a castle. Look for stairs." 

"Here," someone called. 

Following the voice, everyone crowded around the pitch black stairwell an archer had found and I created a Light to guide us down. Thunder rumbled again as we descended, eventually coming out into a large courtyard. There were small gaps in the high roof, however, and two large 'skylights' through which water and wind entered in freezing bursts. 

"There is something strangely familiar about this place," Shamino said, and a few warriors whispered agreement. 

"Someone once told me that the planes linked to Britannia have similarities in people, places and even destinies," I said softly. "Watch for traps. Let's find a dry room. We need to rest and talk." The others spread out and I stayed in the courtyard with my Light. Shamino was right, I thought as I turned a full circle and took in my surroundings. I knew this place. Three doors in one direction (the central one at the end of a short passage) and a set of broken double doors on the opposite side of the courtyard, which occasionally banged because of the wind. There were stone statues of dragons and leopards under the skylights, their eyes seeming to glow by mingled rain and light. 

Standing as I was in the middle of the courtyard, though... something was missing that would have allowed me to recognise the place in an instant. 

Feeling sure that Mellorin wouldn't follow (not with Lord British and all Britannia at her mercy, I recounted bitterly), I ignited every candle standing in their tarnished sconces and mentally straightened the ones that weather had toppled. 

"Avatar," a guard's voice echoed down the passage with the door at the end. "Thou hadst best see this, Avatar," he called urgently. He didn't sound excited, I noted to myself as I led my Light spell to the room. Indeed, he sounded as if he were going to be sick. Sick with fear. 

Two others were with him in the small room, which held the remains of three shattered statues. 

It hit me like a lightning strike. 

"The Isle of Fire," I whispered. 

"Have we gone forward in time, Avatar?" another guard asked fearfully. "Hath the Guardian won?" 

I picked up one of the heavy stone heads. It was the same as the Statue of Truth. Then I looked back to the candlelit courtyard and frowned. "Where's the forge?" 

The guards looked back, then at me again. 

Dropping the head, I motioned for them to follow me. 

"Avatar," Dupre said when we reached the hall. "The rooms are the same as-" 

"I know. But no forge." I thought for a second. "As I said, someone told me in my travels that ties between worlds one can teleport to are stronger if the worlds have similarities. This could be one of those cases." 

The knight let out a breath of relief and a murmuring went through everyone listening. "Then thou thinkest-" 

"I don't know. I'll go upstairs and scry a bit. See what I can see. Did we find anything of interest? What was in that wing?" I asked with a gesture to the door on the right, suddenly remembering the Dark Core and Arcadion's mirror. 

"Nothing," Iolo said. "This place hath been swept clean." 

"Let me scry, then we can decide what to do." 

My companions followed me back upstairs, leaving Draxinusom and the people we'd teleported in the courtyard. I told my friends to wait in the dry, then mounted the last few steps onto the roof. Looking at the dark clouds, I noticed a darker shape outlined against them. 

"_What are you doing up here_?" I demanded silently. 

Kra'lysie landed on the parapet and shook rain from her wings. "_What does it look like? Can't I have a little privacy_?" 

"_It's not like you're naked, you know_," I thought wryly. 

The dragon snorted and launched herself skyward, rolling to let the rain dash against her armoured belly. 

I sent my sight out. 

As it was, this fort wasn't even on an island. The bay was there and the sea all around the mountains except for one spot. A thin strip of rocky cliffs connected the 'Isle of Fire' to another section of land. It was barren, though. The earth, despite the rain, looked scorched and dead. Further scrying brought nothing of interest. Blackened trees, bare rock and no sign of life. The layout of the land made me feel sure this wasn't Britannia. 

I returned to myself, relieved. 

"So where are we?" Kra'lysie asked, inspecting her talons. 

"Don't know." I went to the stairs where the others were and she changed her form to follow. "It's not Britannia." 

"Thank the Virtues," Katrina said. 

"There's nothing in the fort," Dupre said. "I think we should teleport again." 

"Where to?" Julia asked. "What are we doing?" 

Her question hung in the air. 

"We need an army," Katrina said. "Hath anyone counted how many of us are here now?" 

Julia replied, "Not including us, twenty archers and thirty warriors, five of whom are Gargish. Total, including Kra'lysie and Draxinusom..." She glanced around at us. "There are fifty-eight of us." There were a few mutters of disbelief from the others. "Katrina's right. We need an army if we want to stand a chance when we get back to Britannia." 

"What good will that do against hostages?" Iolo asked. 

"We need a big army," Dupre said. "Last time they used the hostages as a weapon. We have to put them on the defensive." 

"As long as the Britannians are hostages, we will always be on the defensive," Iolo murmured. "But I see no alternative." 

"The _mezzini_," Kra'lysie suggested. 

"Keep them in mind," I replied. "I want to see where we are, first. If it's a world I've been to, I might be able to rally even more people." 

***

Ten minutes later we all stood in the middle of a deserted village. The paved road under our feet was cracked and uneven with many stones missing. The silent houses were in various states of disrepair, from broken windows to collapsed ceilings. As in my view of the land, nothing was growing here. Neither could anything be heard besides us. It was as if something had sucked the very life out of the entire world. 

On the up side, it wasn't raining here. 

Faint light came from the west, so I guessed we'd just missed sunset. 

"Groups of three," I called. "Look around and bring anything we can use here." 

"Until it doth get much darker," Dupre added. "That should be around twenty minutes. And don't separate!" 

Draxinusom echoed us in Gargish and both races of Britannians quickly formed groups and went to explore. 

"Elora," Julia called. She was standing at the corner of one of the buildings and pointed at a wall when I looked at her. "I think I've found which plane we're on." There was an official, if somewhat old, document nailed to the wall. 

"'Theft, Murder and Conspiring against the Government are crimes punishable by condemnation to the Pits of Carnage,'" I read aloud as my companions and Draxinusom crowded around. 

"Who's M.G.?" Dupre asked, indicating the initials on the parchment. 

"I still can't believe he knows how to read," Kra'lysie muttered, and Shamino snickered. This earned the ranger a dark look from both her and Dupre. 

I ignored the byplay. "Mors Gotha." 

A shout rang out from somewhere behind us and there was a clash of steel hitting stone. 

"What was that?" Dupre shouted over his shoulder. 

"Some kind of large centipede, Sir Knight," a soldier called back. "We're fine." 

I moved along the wall to the door and found it locked, but a couple of solid kicks fixed that. 

"To check another building," Draxinusom said, and went off with Iolo and Katrina. Julia, Shamino and Kra'lysie took another house, which struck me as strange since I had the impression that Kra'lysie disliked Shamino more than any of my friends, if not more than any other human she'd met. I felt she tolerated him only because of me. 

"Let's go," I said to Dupre, and stepped inside the house I'd opened. 

Something latched onto my head from above, then flew off as Dupre's sword struck it from behind. There was an odd _splut_ noise and we crept closer to get a look at my attacker. 

"Nice sized spider," the knight said, and looked for something to wipe his blade with. 

The creature had stuck to the wall, legs tightly curled, greenish liquid dripping from two severed legs. 

"Listen," I said softly, and Dupre held still. 

The floor was formed of wooden boards and covered in places with faded rugs. The spider's blood was dripping down between two slats, and it was at least a full second before we could hear it hit the ground. 

Dupre nodded slowly. "Very good..." He kicked a rug aside. "There must be a trapdoor somewhere." 

We searched for a while, eventually finding the way down concealed beneath a broken bookshelf. 

"Looks like the handle was torn off," Dupre noted, rubbing at a pair of bolt holes in the wood. "And my fingers are too big to fit between the boards." 

I tried and lifted, but something was weighing the trapdoor down. Even with my undead strength, I couldn't get enough leverage with just my fingertips. "I guess we open it the other way." 

The knight grinned and we both kicked down at the same time. The boards buckled then shattered after a fourth pair of kicks, and we went downstairs. It only occurred to me then, as we descended the creaking stairs, that I could have used magic. Shrugging at my own oversight, I made amends by creating a Light. 

The upper room, although furnished, hadn't held anything of interest. No crockery, books, clothes, nothing. The room underneath was, by comparison, a treasure trove. Bookshelves crammed to overflowing with tomes and scroll cases lined the walls, and tables taking up the rest of the room were littered with various objects and yet more books. 

"Small museum?" I suggested when I reached the landing. 

"Some museum. Where are the suits of armour and magical weapons?" 

"So maybe a strange library." I picked up something that looked like a telescope, but wasn't. "Wonder if there's anything useful here..." 

Dupre opened a small pouch. "At least we can give Draxinusom these reagents." 

I opened the hard cover of one particularly large and dusty book. "Looks like a history of this world." 

"Will that be of any use?" Dupre asked. He peered closely at a dust-covered silver helmet shaped like some kind of bird - a long neck and head forming the nasal bar and the feathered wings folded down and around the front to serve as cheeckguards. 

"I don't know." I flicked through a few pages and something caught my eye. Stopping, I turned back and found one full sheaf displaying a picture of a woman in brilliant colours. "What do you make of this?" 

The knight had a look. "Not bad looking." 

I rolled my eyes and pointed at some tiny print at the bottom of the page. "Look. Britannian runes." 

He bent closer to the book. "'The Valkyrie'. Is that a title?" 

"Valkyries were mythical beings said to serve the Norse gods in Valhalla." 

Dupre looked blank. 

"Earth mythology. Some legends said they could turn themselves into swans. Others said that they rode horses with manes of flame across the sky. All of them said that they were masterful warriors and that they walked unseen among mortal armies, marking who was going to die." I pursed my lips and looked at the picture again. She was fair of skin, had hair as blonde as sunlight, fathomless blue eyes and a confident expression. Her armour was a silver helm, a shirt of gleaming mail, a white cloak, leather leggings and boots, and her weapon a black sword. 

"That's the same helmet," Dupre observed. "A swan." 

I scanned the opposite page. "She was the Champion of this world, it seems." Reading a bit I added, "Scaeduen... I think that's the name of this place." 

"What happened to the Valkyrie?" 

I leafed through a few more pages and found another picture. After reading the caption, I sighed. "She was killed by Mors Gotha. A duel to the death." 

Dupre read the opposite page aloud. "'When the Valkyrie refused to surrender to the leader of the Guardian's armies, she was thrown into the Pits of Carnage. Reports from our agent Zoranthus indicate that even then, the Valkyrie did not give up. After numerous challenges in the Pits, from which she emerged victorious, she quickly became the undisputed leader of those imprisoned there. Within two months, she had people working on a way to destroy the magic that keeps the entrance to the Pits closed. After three months, Mors Gotha decided to enter the Pits herself and challenge the Valkyrie to a duel. The Valkyrie accepted and chose the Arena of Air. She was defeated, and when Mors Gotha demanded that she surrender, she said, "I mark thee for death." Then was the Valkyrie killed, and "Mors Gotha Lives" became a slogan among those sympathetic to the Guardian's cause.'" 

"Not any more," I muttered. "Any details about the fight?" 

"No. Whoever wrote this was only interested in the important facts. Iolo would be appalled." 

I closed the book. "Enough facts to give me an idea. I know Zoranthus. If we can find the Pits, I might be able to get some more help from him." Picking it up, I added, "I wonder if anyone will mind if I take this. Might be useful." 

Dupre considered that with a grave expression, then said, "Well, this _is_ a library I suppose, so it could be construed as 'borrowing'..." 

"I wasn't intending to return it, Dupre." 

"Oh? Well in _that_ case..." He cleared his throat and, with a fair impression of Iolo's most disapproving voice, said: "Is that Virtuous?" 

"Oh shut up." 

***

When everyone returned to the square, we made one last sweep with the knowledge of the trapdoors in mind (one other group had already discovered this and uncovered a small store of dried fruits and meats) to see if anything else could be found. Only two more trapdoors were found, though. One was empty, but the other was a blessing. It was beneath a smithy, if the cold forge was any indication, and it held a plethora of assorted arms and armour and shields, all untouched by rust and some obviously enchanted. No one needed any persuading to take whatever they could use. 

All I took was a shirt of silvery mail that seemed infused by a faint blue glow, which I slipped on over my tunic. 

Then we were teleporting again. 

***

Someone shouted and the first thing I saw was a fist. The next thing I knew I was flat on my back blinking at the sky. A mace swung down at my head and I rolled aside as someone smacked it off-target with an axe. 

Julia dragged me to my feet as more cries rang out and weapons clashed. "We landed right in the middle of _something_," the tinker shouted over the noise - rather unnecessarily, I thought - then ducked away to engage someone with her shortsword. 

Our attackers were an oddly assorted group I saw as a goblin tried to skewer me. Grabbing the haft of his spear as I dodged, I pushed back hard so the butt got him in the stomach. He doubled over and I wrenched his weapon free to strike his forehead with the butt again. He toppled, unconscious, and I quickly counted how many were against us in this collection of goblins, humans and at least one troll. Not many, thank the Virtues. Fate would truly have to be against us if we suffered major casualties here. 

Dropping the spear, I drew the sword the _mezzini_ had given me and parried a human's blade, counter-attacked with a lunge that glanced across his ribs then began to block a sweeping slice just as my eyes went blind and fire seemed to sear my insides. 

A shock went up my arm as the swords connected, but unbelievable pain came with it and I fell forward, lunging blindly to the sound of my invisible opponent's scream then dropping to the ground with a strained gasp. 

A gasp for breath. 

_What the..._

Magic flew around to enclose me in a protective barrier and I heard something metallic bounce off it. I recognised Kra'lysie's mind, but couldn't concentrate enough to send her a mental message. Instead I sat on the barren ground, blood burning, heart pounding, lungs screaming for more air. When I tried to stand, my head spun so much I almost passed out. 

"_Stay still,_" the dragon's thoughts came to me. "_The Tinker comes for you._" 

"_Staying still is no problem_," I managed, teeth gritted and eyes staring blindly at nothing. "_I can't see_." 

Someone took me by the wrists and helped me up. Panic stabbed at my mind as I was led...somewhere. There was only blackness. Everywhere I looked there was a vast field of nothing. 

The person leading me said, "That building." It was Julia. 

Amidst a torrent of other sounds and noises, I heard a door being forced open, quickly followed by footsteps crossing a wooden floor. The brisk wind suddenly stopped and I knew I was inside. 

"What happened?" Dupre's voice asked. "I didn't see anyone hit thee." 

"A spell?" suggested Iolo. 

There was the sound of a door creaking closed. 

"To have felt no spellcasting of such power," came Draxinusom's answer. 

"Wait," Julia's voice said. The hands supporting me moved, one sliding up to touch the side of my neck. "By the Virtues..." she whispered. Her tone suddenly became excited. "By the Virtues! Thou'rt alive!" 

There were several startled exclamations, then someone grabbed my wrist and felt for the pulse beating there. 

"She's alive!" 

Everyone started talking at once. 

"_Quiet_!" I shouted and they immediately fell silent. "Virtues! Why couldn't I have been deaf instead of blind?" I reached out aimlessly and felt nothing. "Could someone grab me a chair, please?" 

Something scraped against the floorboards and moved behind me. Julia helped me sit on what I guessed was a wooden crate. 

I shut my eyes and felt better for some reason. At least there was now an _excuse_ to why I couldn't see. On top of that, most of the pain seemed to have vanished. I had a few aches, but it was nothing like the incapacitating fire in my veins earlier. "Now, this is what happened. I was fighting. As soon as I reached that first fighter and wounded him..." I spread my hands. "I don't know how. I'm alive, though. I can feel it. The same thing happened when I fought Mellorin. At first I thought it was just because she is me, but now I don't know what to think." I paused. "How do I look?" I asked, a little uncertainly. 

"Normal," said Julia. "Thou even hast eyes, so I can't understand why thou canst not see." 

"This isn't what she looks like," Kra'lysie said, her voice troubled. "It's an illusion of my own casting. I thought it would save you all the pain of attempting to explain to your Britannians why the Avatar looks like this." 

A tingling feeling washed over me a second before I heard several sharp breaths. It was only too easy to imagine the looks of revulsion that were probably on their faces. Virtues, how bad _did_ I look after...however long I'd been undead? I kept my eyes firmly shut, unwilling to let them see my vacant eye-sockets...afraid to know how they might react. 

Katrina's voice was shaky as she asked, "We can...we can heal her, can't we?" 

"No," Kra'lysie replied. "The _aeth'raesh'al_ would only channel any energy you use to Mellorin." 

"Can I heal myself?" I asked. 

"I...am unsure. I don't know if you should try." 

"_Look_ at her," Julia retorted. "We have to do _something_." 

"I'm open to suggestions, Tinker." 

"Please don't argue," I interrupted, suddenly feeling a deep fatigue. "Kra'lysie, do you have _any_ idea how this has happened? Any explanation to why I'm alive?" 

"You're not alive," the dragon stated. "You can't be. It's impossible!" 

"Kra'lysie, I have a pulse, I'm breathing...what else can you call it?" 

Someone knocked on the door. 

"I'll take care of it," Dupre said, and moved off. 

"Find some bandages and clean water whilst thou'rt at it," Iolo instructed him at the same time as Kra'lysie said to me, "You can only be alive if your double is dead. It's not possible to be in two places at the same time. _She_ is alive so you can't be! I don't have another explanation." 

"That would mean she's still undead, wouldn't it?" Shamino asked. 

"I suppose so." The dragon sounded irritated at not knowing how to give a better answer. "Even though her aura doesn't show that. Look, I don't even know how this has happened." 

"If she's undead, she can cast spells without reagents, right?" 

"Right." 

I nodded and gathered my strength. I definitely didn't feel as strong as before, but I was far from being weak. What I needed was a good few days in bed and some food - I was feeling _very_ hungry all of a sudden. The spell I was casting was sort of like Roaming Sight, except that you'd keep it in one place - where your eyes should be. As I released the spell, everything slowly came into focus despite my closed eyes. The anxious faces of my friends, the dirty straw piled into one corner of the building, dim light gleaming off a broken window, floorboards carpeted by a thick layer of dust that now bore fresh footprints... 

"To ask if it worked?" Draxinusom would have felt me casting the spell. 

I quickly established my own illusion, opened my eyes and smiled half-heartedly. "It worked." 

Which meant Kra'lysie had been right. I was still undead. 

***

I refused the offer of rest because time was the one thing we didn't have. No one had suffered an injury more serious than Draxinusom or anyone else with magical abilities could handle, so we were soon teleporting again. As per last time, we reappeared amongst creatures who wanted to cut us into dog food. Prepared, the Britannians attacked before any foe could do more than let out a startled yell and draw his or her weapon. 

At first I felt barely strong enough to lift my sword, let alone hold it steady. But when a goblin virtually impaled herself on it after reeling away from a Britannian mace, I felt an odd thing happen. 

Mages talk about the feeling of omnipotence that can infuse you when a great amount of power enters your body, and I'd experienced that myself at times, but nothing like the sheer intoxication that filled my being now. My blood burned as it sped through my veins, a sensation of strength gripping my muscles. 

Almost of its own volition, my blade whipped out and took the head of a human wearing ill-kept chain mail. The decapitated body fell forward, the hand-axe clutched in his dead left hand swinging down to strike the ground between my feet. 

I spun, blade uplifted as a hand grasped my shoulder. 

"Hold!" Dupre shouted, and I blinked at him before lowering my sword. He grinned widely. "Thou seemest to have recovered." 

"Is it over?" I asked, looking around. "Already?" I added, a disappointed note in my voice. 

Dupre gave me a strange look. "Yes." He touched a graze on his right cheekbone and made a face. "How many more will we go through before finding these Pits of Carnage?" 

"To call the Avatar!" a gargoyle shouted. 

"I don't know," I told Dupre, and gestured for him to come as I started walking. "Maybe we should ask for directions." 

"In any case, these wretches seem intent on killing themselves rather than being taken alive." 

"Fleeing battle in the Pits was seen as a serious breach of honour," I said. "Every fight down there was to the death. Perhaps that's the reason..." 

As it turned out, the gargoyle warrior who'd called me was crouched near a goblin with an angry lump on his head. Iolo and a human crossbowman were nearby. The goblin's slightly unfocussed eyes took a little while to fix on me. At length, he squinted and grimaced. 

"Thou be-est the Avatar, aye?" 

I leaned on my sword and tried to calm my heart, which was still racing after the battle. "How didst thou know?" 

"Thou'rt the killer of Dorstag." The goblin sat up under the watchful eyes of the gargoyle. Rubbing his head, he added, "Everyone from the Pits knoweth that." 

I exchanged a glance with my friends. "Thou'rt from the Pits? How didst thou get out?" 

"Eh?" The goblin blinked at me. "Through the trapdoor, same as everyone else." 

"I escaped by magic," I said, determined to get to the bottom of this. "When I last saw the inside of the Pits of Carnage, the trapdoor was closed. Who opened it and how?" 

The goblin shrugged. "It was opened from the outside. The trapdoor's in one of the ancient cities and some rebel bands managed to capture it, then open the door. This was a couple of days ago, thou seest. Then they've just been letting everyone out. I joined one of the quickly forming groups of ex-prisoners and we got away from there before anyone could change their minds and toss us back in." 

"I thought the Guardian's magic kept the trapdoor sealed." 

"Well, someone broke the spell. Don't ask me. I know nothing about magic." 

I wondered if I'd taken a hand in that. Leaving that question for the time being, I asked, "Knowest thou the way to the Pits of Carnage?" 

He snorted. "Why dost thou ask?" 

"I'm looking for someone who was in there." 

"Someone thou hadst a grudge against?" he asked with a little interest. 

"No. Just an acquaintance." 

"I'm not joining thy band if thou'rt heading back to the Pits!" 

I bent over the upright ruby pommel of my sword and looked him in the eyes without smiling. "Is that thy decision, then?" I asked softly. 

He hesitated and glanced around furtively at the expressionless faces around him. Dupre was running a whetstone down the edge of a long dagger, seemingly oblivious to the sound it was producing. 

The goblin sighed and muttered something in his own tongue. "I'll show thee the way," he said reluctantly. 

"Good. Look, just show us to the city where this trapdoor is and we'll let thee go in peace." 

He looked a bit happier at that. "Done." He held up one green hand and I gripped it, helping him up and shaking it with a grin afterwards. "I am called Canus. What is thy band called, _shakra_?" 

Iolo said, "The Avatar's Companions." 

***

Thus began our trek north-east along the Old Highway and landscapes devoid of plant life. Canus told us that we'd reach a city in about eight hours. Eight _standard_ hours, or less, I hoped. From there, if we were allowed in, we could see if anyone knew where Zoranthus was. If necessary, I was willing to enter the Pits and look for him myself. 

After a short rest period where I conferred with my friends, we decided against telling Canus what our business was or asking him for information of this world. It might be dangerous enough that he knew I was the Avatar, even if the significance of that title might not be known. 

He obviously expected us to fight every band we came across. Each time a group of humans, goblins, trolls, other creatures or mixed were seen camping near the road or travelling against our direction, Canus would draw his sword, identify any familiar faces in its ranks, give his advice, and await my course of attack. As was usual, our archers and crossbowpeople, who walked in deliberate position on the right and left of our group, would dash back a ways and begin their deadly rain on the opposition. The rest of us would divide - a quarter to defend each flank and the others waiting to meet the charge. 

There were a lot of bands, though, and on average we saw one every hour. The Pits of Carnage would probably be empty by the time we got there. 

Arrows and bolts ran out, and that became a problem when we came up against a band with their own ranged weapons and even mages. We decided to detour around two such groups when Kra'lysie spotted them off in the distance, though this was against the judgement of both Canus and myself. He considered it cowardly. What hope would we have of getting into the city if we didn't have a reputation? My friends reasoned that _my_ reputation might serve instead. 

And my reason for wanting to fight? The fight itself was the reason. It was a common enough desire after a certain amount of personal trauma, I reasoned, and Virtues knew I'd been through enough. I wanted to fight, lose myself in the oblivion of battle-rage and forget that I'd abandoned the world I loved more than life to the Guardian. There were enough battles on the way to keep everyone busy, though. In each I unleashed my anger on my enemies, welcoming the illusion that it was really Mellorin on the end of my sword, welcoming the strange feeling of mixed victory and renewed power each cry of agony gave me. 

Only one battle resulted in Britannian fatalities - four humans - while two yielded some serious wounds. Those who needed it were Healed or Resurrected. No one was being left to die here if we could help it. 

An hour away from the city we stopped to rest. By then I'd calmed down enough to notice the loud grumbling from my stomach and the fact that I was yawning a good deal. After eating, I fell asleep beside a small cookfire and didn't wake until the next day. 

***

The sun hadn't risen yet when I finally came to, but the fire had been kept burning through the night. Julia lay on the other side of it, her green cloak drawn tight around herself and the folds glistening with early morning dew. A few Britannians paced around the camp, keeping watch, but otherwise everyone was asleep. 

I moved closer to the fire and pulled my backpack over, taking out the book I'd borrowed from that village. There was no title on the cover or the first few pages, and no name to indicate who had written it. I turned to the first page with text - all runic - and settled down to read. 

_**The Coming of the Nightmares**   
Scaeduen used to be a single huge continent surrounded by ocean. The land was rich, riddled with rivers that flowed from the Ice Mountains and there was no war. Martial prowess was highly valued, but for no other reason than as a test of skill and strength with various weapons. Those who called themselves rulers had no need to fight for land, for it was plentiful and almost always fair. The soil yielded anything one would wish to grow and the forests and plains provided game aplenty. _

Man, Troll and Goblin had nothing to fear until the coming of the Nightmares. 

Little is known of how these beasts entered our world. They resembled the Pegasi, though they had no wings and were black. Their manes and tails were like fire and their hooves sparked as they galloped across the sky. Wherever they passed over, those who slept never woke. 

And those who feared to sleep went mad. 

**The Time of Fire**   
One of the first to lose his mind to the Nightmares was the human mage Zari. Although insane, his magic was in perfect working order as he slaughtered the people of his village and burned it. He went to the Ice Mountains in the middle of the continent and climbed Mount Ethereal, the highest peak in Scaeduen. For a time nothing more was heard or seen of him. Then, one night, the mountain burned. 

Smoke, ash and steam covered over two thirds of the land and the sun all but vanished. The Ice Mountains split and earthquakes shook the world. Rivers ran with liquid flame and much of the highlands were scorched. The mountains could not be seen through the smoke. 

But the Nightmares continued to ride the sky, and death came in their wake. 

**Appeal to Circe**   
A group of Humans, Trolls and Goblins, led by the Goblin ranger Sendarii, made the long overland trek to the foot of the Ice Mountains and around to where stood the Castle of Cycle. Even by keeping careful watch at night and sleeping in shifts, only half their number made it, and there they found the land split, mountains giving way to water that still boiled with heat. 

The castle now stood on a narrow thread of land. It was undamaged, though abandoned. Those who tended the shrines of Death, Void and Life had fled long since. 

Determined to contact the spirits of the Cycle, the group stripped the castle of all the ritualistic herbs that had been left behind and prepared the Shrine as best they knew. 

Sendarii was left alone in the Shrine as it filled with the scented smoke of the burning herbs and his mind entered the realm of Void. What passed between the ranger and spirits was never revealed but, when he returned to himself, he said that Circe had heard their plea. 

The Spirit of Death had chosen a Human avatar. 

The Spirit of Void had filled a mindless object. 

The Spirit of Life had touched an innocent animal. 

The three united would end the destruction that plagued Scaeduen and put the Nightmares to rest. 

**Uniting the Circle**   
Word was sent across the world and the search for the three vessels began. 

The Mages of Grace found Void's relic. It was a sword of black material that reflected no light. 

A mountain druid discovered Life's animal, and there was much doubt about it at first. The creature was a molan_, the offspring of a Nightmare and Pegasus. Like the former it was black, but like the latter it was winged. There had been other births like this across Scaeduen, but few live ones. Most foals were killed upon discovery. _

The Spirit of Death came in the form of a Human woman from beyond the world. Her name was Anatidae, and she was aware of her task from the moment she arrived. Taking up the sword and mounting the molan_ she flew directly to the burning Mount Ethereal. _

Within its caves she found a score of Nightmares, the mad Zari and a blazing red stone the size of a Human head. With the Voidblade, Anatidae managed to kill Zari and shatter the jewel. At its destruction a tremor ripped across the land and the continent was divided into three, even as the jewel lay as three broken shards. 

Mount Ethereal collapsed into the sea and the vessels of the spirits, of Death, Void and Life, were thought lost. 

The three divided lands were named Mortis, Oubron and Vivaer. The Nightmares appeared to have vanished, the eruptions had stopped and much of the land was now ruined, but the three races were able to rebuild and work together to restore peace from the chaos of the previous years. 

I flipped forward, scanning the next few pages for more references to Anatidae, who I guessed was the Valkyrie. It seemed that she too was from Earth, which surprised me for some reason. I supposed that if I could get to Britannia then someone else from Earth could do the same (like my companions) or similar, but another _Avatar_? 

There was a whole section in the book of how Anatidae eventually gained the title of Valkyrie, but her quests seemed very different from my own. Her 'companions' were her sword and her _molan_, and there was little talk of friends among the people. She seemed to be highly respected, but also feared, as though she bore some terrible power. The avatar of Death. That didn't really sound very nice. There was very little in the book about Scaeduen's virtue system - this Death, Void and Life cycle. It even seemed to be around the wrong way. Shouldn't it have been Life, Void and Death, or even Life, Death and then Void? 

I shrugged and flipped through more pages, idly aware that the sky was growing lighter and the Britannians were stirring around me. It seemed the people of this world had been good and noble. No racial prejudices, only one or two wars by the occasional bad apple. The book wasn't particularly in-depth about a lot of things, as though assuming the reader would know a lot of what it was on about. 

Another paragraph caught my attention: 

_The three shards of Zari's jewel, thought lost, were recovered by a mountaineer named Skarne and presented to leaders of the Three Lands: the Goblin Lady Tanchu of Mortis, the Human Lord Farras of Oubron, and the Troll Chief Gundreft of Vivaer. Each ruler chose to have their shard surmounted in a crown, and the broken jewel gave them wondrous powers which they used to govern the world._

If Britannia's three shards were any indication, this did not bode well. After several decades of history in which all seemed to be going well, there was a change. Each ruler became envious of the powers of the other two. This covetousness eventually affected their people and enmity began to build between the Three Lands. 

_Determined to sieze the other two shards and take the full power of the Jewel, Chief Gundreft called upon the magic of his shard for the gift of Longevity; he hoped to outlive the other two rulers and claim their shards when they died. _

Hearing of this plan, Tanchu used the power of her shard to embrace Undeath, a strength that would surely endure longer than life. 

Farras used his shard to open his mind to the Void and fill his being with Ether, becoming an archmage of power beyond any. He trusted that this power would outlast even those of Life and Death. 

And as their leaders thirsted for power, so the same strange hunger came upon the people of Scaeduen like a plague... 

The next few pages detailed uprisings and then war between the Three Lands. The leaders each tried to summon the Valkyrie and bind her to their cause, but she turned against all three of them, marking them for death and vowing to destroy the shards. She took to the sky astride her _molan_, the Voidblade strapped to her back, and began to seek her prey. 

As confident in their powers as the three were, they still feared the Valkyrie and their fear drove them to work together. They combined their powers and sought aid beyond their world for one who could break the Cycle. 

I turned the page and my gaze fixed on the subtitle. 

_**The Coming of the Guardian**_

On the opposite page was a picture in colours as vivid as the one of the Valkyrie. It showed a scarlet visage with two burning eyes. After staring at it for a while, I forced myself to read. 

_The three were answered by a being who called himself the Guardian. He promised to send a champion who would defeat the Valkyrie. When the three asked what the price would be for this, the Guardian said that it would be nothing none of them would be unwilling to give. The champion he would send them could lead their people to conquer other worlds instead of fighting each other... if they would allow themselves and their warriors such glory. All they would have to do, the Guardian said, was listen to his Voice and trust him. He had already judged them worthy, and if they united with him they would become invincible. _

The three agreed to his terms, and followed his instructions to build a gateway through which the champion would come. The gate was a great rectangular slab of a material called blackrock, and when the time was right its surface rippled with dark light. Through the Black Gate came an armed woman with hair as dark as the Valkyrie's was blonde. Behind her streamed a regiment of soldiers bearing the armour of another world. 

From there the Guardian's forces had moved swiftly to secure all the major cities and establish military camps and compounds. Eager to take part in travelling across the planes in this great army, the people of Scaeduen lined up to test their battle prowess against the Guardian's soldiers in order to be accepted. 

During this time, the Valkyrie once again took to the skies and flew over the areas of Guardian occupation. For three straight days she delivered only a warning from the back of her fire-winged steed - leave Scaeduen through the Black Gate or be marked for death. When the warning was refused each time, she again soared over the camps of the outworlders, the Voidblade unsheathed and held high. 

Only this time, those she passed over toppled and died in an instant. This went on for weeks as she shouted demands to confront Tanchu, Farras and Gundreft - by the time they came to face her the deaths of outworlders and Scaeduenese who had joined their ranks numbered tens of thousands. 

But the three leaders lured the Valkyrie into a trap and did not come to face her alone. With them was Mors Gotha. Before the power of the three shards and Mors Gotha's skill with a sword, the Valkyrie fell. As her enemies surrounded her she bade the _molan_ to flee and continue the fight without her. The Voidblade she tossed into the air where it vanished like smoke on the wind. 

"How art thou feeling?" Julia asked and I almost jumped at her voice. I looked over at her and closed the book, stowing it away in my pack. The sun was over the horizon by now and there was s distinct chill in the air. 

"Elora?" Julia asked. 

"Cold," I chattered, my breath forming mist in the air. I stared as it dispersed. 

"Still alive, too." She smiled and handed me a comb. "Try and make thyself presentable as our leader." I changed my illusion to fix the problem and she sighed. "Wish I could do that." 

I grinned, handing the comb back. "Anything happen last night?" 

"Only one attack-" 

"Why didn't you wake me?" I interrupted angrily. 

"Well, it was over almost before it began." She raised a brow at me. "Kra'lysie was out flying, saw a few goblins sneaking around, contacted Dupre..." she shrugged. 

"Oh." 

"Is this some kind of weird liche thing?" 

"What?" 

Julia lowered her voice. "Our friends have noticed it too. Thou lookest to be enjoying fighting." 

"_What_?" I forced a laugh. "No, I'm not." 

"It looked like it the other day." 

I sighed and met her worried gaze. "Did I do the right thing, Julia?" 

"By leaving Britannia, thou meanest?" 

I nodded, my eyes lowering to look at the ground. 

"Had we not, there would have been two choices for us: fight or surrender. I doubt we would have fought, not with all those hostages at Mellorin's mercy. That leaveth surrender, which is a hard thing for me to see us doing." 

"Better to die on our feet than live on our knees?" I asked. 

Julia shrugged. "There are two schools of thought on that. Personally, I'd prefer to fight and die than live under the Guardian or any other oppressor. But consider, Avatar. If we fight and die, we die. The end. If we surrender, we survive. While there is life, there is hope that we can rise again and break free." Her eyes were intense when I finally looked at her again. "We didn't surrender, but, because of thee, we're alive. We have hope." 

She took her leave to attend to something, and it was a few minutes before I realised she hadn't really answered my question at all. 

***

Nothing happened on the remainder of our journey until we reached the city Canus had told us of. It looked to be the size of Trinsic, and just as well defended. Vestiges of green grass clung to the bases of the walls, and I guessed that there might be plant life within. No banners hung from the towers, I noticed as we waited for someone to allow us entry or turn us away. I asked Canus to stay with us until we actually saw the trapdoor, then led everyone closer to the city. 

"The Avatar's Companions!" Iolo shouted when the question came from the gatehouse. 

"The Avatar? Isn't she still in the Pits of Carnage? We never saw her emerge." 

"I escaped before the trapdoor was opened," I called, "by magic." 

"Thou wilt have to prove thy claim," the voice shouted after a short silence. "I will not bar the gates to the Avatar, but art thou she?" 

"Exactly how many worlds art thou famous on?" Dupre muttered as the distant portcullis rose with a grating sound. 

I gave him a smile and went forward alone to meet the solitary figure emerging from the gate. 

It was a troll. Half again my height, heavily muscled and covered with thick, dark-brown fur, there was unmistakable intelligence in its grey eyes. It regarded me steadily as we stopped to face each other, then he spoke in a surprisingly genteel voice: "I am Hartrhind." 

"I am Elora, the Avatar." 

"That remains to be seen. Not even the Valkyrie escaped from the Pits of Carnage, Elora." Hartrhind scratched his chin with a huge hand, obviously thinking. 

"What dost thou know of me?" 

"Of _thee_, nothing. News of the Avatar tell that she slew Dorstag, befriended a great troll, broke one of the Guardian's wards, which later allowed us to open the trapdoor, and braved the lower levels - maybe even meeting the mage Zoranthus." 

_Someone's well informed_, I thought, and waited patiently. 

"Didst thou save Britannia?" Hartrhind asked. 

Something told me that there was a lot more to this troll than met the eye. I made a gesture to the _aeth'raesh'al_ bracer that only he would see and replied, "It's not over yet." 

"A sorceress lady who dwelleth in a desert sent word thou mightest come back to Scaeduen," he told me softly. "I lead one of the few bands that oppose the red titan, and three of these hold the city behind me, as we have for scarce three days. We hoped we would find thee in the Pits of Carnage. Or, at least, simply find thee." 

"What dost thou want?" I asked. 

"We wish to join thee in thy struggle against the Guardian, under thy banner. We must unite to win this war, Avatar." 

"You must understand," I said softly, dropping my archaic phrasing, "that Britannia has to come first with me. Her king has been taken and if he dies, I think the world will follow." 

"Our worlds are connected, Avatar." Hartrhind nodded his understanding. "If thy world dies, Scaeduen and many others will be caught in the destruction. We will still help." He extended his huge hand and I took it with a grim smile. 

Suddenly, Hartrhind's eyes widened and he shoved me away. I was knocked sprawling, speechless, and shouts of protest rose from the Britannians. 

"_Alive_!" the troll shouted. "'Tis the deceiver!" He stepped forward, towering over me and beginning to do what I _never_ thought I'd see a troll do. 

Magic. 

An incantation flew as Britannian bows and crossbows fired. Bolts struck Hartrhind's Magical Missile Shield and exploded, raining splinters over me. 

"_Stop_!" Hartrhind roared, and he had me before I'd thought to move. One gigantic fist clamped around my neck and lifted me up and out far enough that I wouldn't be able to kick at him. 

I was too busy trying to breathe, in any case. 

Iolo shouted a command to cease fire immediately. 

"If you'll let me explain," I choked. "Did Altara give you any other... signs to know us by?" 

"She said thou wouldst likely have a great red dragon in thy company. I don't see it, unless those winged humanoids in thy ranks are what she meant." 

The edges of my vision started to blur. I couldn't see Kra'lysie, but she'd started keeping to the rear of our company to avoid being caught in a fight. "Let me call her." 

"I'm not letting thee go." 

"Then _you_ call her," I said through gritted teeth, my hands instinctively pulling at the large fingers around my throat. "Kra'lysie." 

"Kra'lysie!" Hartrhind shouted. "If thou be-est a dragon, show thyself and prove the Avatar true." 

The ranks of the Britannians stirred and Kra'lysie pushed her way to the vanguard. She approached a few steps. 

"No closer," Hartrhind ordered. "I've seen enough." 

"You've seen nothing," I whispered as the dragon-woman turned, told the Britannians to step back, then began to shimmer. When she'd regained her true form, unfurled her vast wings and scorched the air with a thunderous, fire-tinged roar, Hartrhind murmured, "Uh... that's good enough for me." 

"Impressive, no?" I managed as he set me down. 

"You really have to find another means of identification, Avatar," Kra'lysie rumbled disapprovingly. 

"Sorry," I called up in a slightly strained voice. "Usually they just ask to see my Ankh and-" 

"Ankh?" Hartrhind asked. 

I pulled down the neck of my mail shirt to reveal the golden amulet melded to my skin. 

"Oh," he said, looking like he was wishing he'd asked about that earlier. 

I rubbed my neck and knew exactly how he felt. 

***

The inside of the city, Zehr Mathil, was not green as I'd expected, but as barren as the outside. The only things that grew on this world were fungi, mosses, algae and a dream-enhancing drug that flourished on grave sites. Mages were able to create a daily supplement of food with the aid of runestones - enchanted stones that substituted their own energies in place of reagents. This way they also had the power to keep their animals fed, but more often than not the magic was used to repel attackers. 

"The standard of the Ankh and the name of the Avatar are almost synonymous with victory against the Guardian," Hartrhind told my companions (just the close ones - everyone else was free to wander the grounds) and me as we toured the city. "Thou art the only one who hast continuously thwarted his plans to take thy world. Without help, though, we know it's only a matter of time before thou fallest." 

"Who's 'we'?" I asked. 

"Those who have fought for their own worlds and lost." 

"What maketh thee think the Avatar will eventually lose?" Dupre demanded. 

Hartrhind glanced over at him then looked directly at me. "Two reasons. The first is that the Guardian is unaffected by time's passage, but the Avatar, even with her legendary longevity, will not live forever. The second reason is because she is fighting this war alone. All the power and strength she draweth for her battles are from herself. From Britannia. The Guardian draweth from many worlds, friends. _Many_." 

"What dost thou suggest?" Shamino asked, and I said, "I'm not going to forcefully take energy from worlds like he does." 

Hartrhind's brutish face smiled. "The true power of a world is in its people, Avatar, and we give ourselves freely for thy cause for it is the same as ours. We must unite." 

"We have," I assured him. 

"What are thy plans?" 

"I want to see a human mage named Zoranthus. Have you heard of him?" 

"Zoranthus?" Hartrhind looked startled. "I know of him. He's been fighting the Guardian since before the time of the Valkyrie!" He paused, considered what he'd just said, then stared at me in wonder. "He's in the Pits of Carnage, isn't he?" 

"Unless he's left since you opened the trapdoor?" 

He shook his great head. "I couldn't say, Avatar. I have no idea what Zoranthus looketh like, and many people have come through the trapdoor." 

"Don't worry. I'll take a few people into the Pits later and see if he's where I last saw him." 

Draxinusom changed the subject. "To wonder if any other bands are joining us here?" 

I'd explained the differences between gargoyles and daemons, but Hartrhind still looked slightly intimidated. Draxinusom was almost as tall as he was, for one thing, and the Gargoyle Lord had a certain presence. 

"No more bands will come," Hartrhind answered. "Not for a while at least." He stopped walking and leaned against a parapet, his back to the iron grey sea. "Thou hast my band, the Gauntlet, Talaac's Jade Hawks-" he pointed out a human standing guard on a tower. I could make out that the arrows in his shoulder quiver were feathered green. "-only all-archer band I know of, and fine archers at that. Cale's Chosen." He peered down into the courtyard, then up at the sky. "Cale must be hunting." 

"What's Cale?" Kra'lysie asked, interested when Hartrhind had looked up. 

"A _molan_." I blinked, my friends only looking confused as he added, "Cale was the steed of the Valkyrie. She was to our world what the Avatar is to Britannia." 

"A winged horse. Can he talk?" I put in. 

"I know not what a horse is, but Cale can talk in his own way. Other than them there are a few former prisoners still about. Some have joined us, while others don't appear to know where to go." He turned to me. "Cale isn't likely to return for a while yet, which will be when we'll all follow thy lead wherever thou wouldst go. Perhaps thou wouldst like to search for Zoranthus now?" 

I glanced at my friends. "Ready for a little adventuring?" 

***

It was about half an hour later that Iolo, Shamino, Dupre, Julia, Katrina, Kra'lysie and five human Britannians descended with me into the Pits of Carnage. The huge iron-bound trapdoor remained open above us, faint torchlight flickering off the roof of the deep cellar it resided in. Hartrhind had lowered a long rope ladder and wished us luck. 

Once I was standing in the dark and familiar surroundings I created a Light and led my companions up a stone passage towards the stairs that connected to the lower levels. 

"This was where most of the people lived, or tried to live," I said into the vast silence. "One huge underground prison. There are four arenas where they can fight one another for food or gold. It was practically the only way to survive." 

My voice echoed eerily against distant walls. This place was empty, dark and cold. 

We reached the stairs after about ten minutes and followed them down, then walked through some twisting passages of earth and mossy rock to an enormous cave. There were some murmurs of amazement that quickly died down as the echoes came back. Even Kra'lysie, whose kind lived in caves, looked impressed. The earthen floor was covered with a moist green lichen and small clumps of fungi dotted it. The air was humid, but not really unpleasant. The smell pervading it was sharp and fresh, very different from the musty dankness that usually overhung caves and dungeons. And my Light, although bright, was not enough to illuminate the far walls or high, jagged roof. 

"Is that a bridge?" a soldier whispered and pointed up. 

Steel support bars rose from the floor in pairs to hold up a wooden bridge running between two cave openings far above, east to west. 

I nodded and replied softly, "We go over that way, east, where there's a way up to the bridge. The mage Zoranthus lives on the west side." 

"I can make it easier," Kra'lysie said, and moved forward. When she shimmered into her dragon form, the golden light surrounding her lit up the cavern like day. A chorus of high-pitched squeaks sounded at the unfamiliar brightness, and bats dropped from the ceiling with indignant shrieks. "Shut up," Kra'lysie growled threateningly. "Come here, Avatar." She picked me up and placed me on her crested head. I held on as she raised her long neck and pushed up with her hind legs, tail coiled behind her and wings outspread for balance. I ducked when we neared the bridge, for it was very close to the stalagtited roof, and carefully climbed up onto it. Kra'lysie went down again, the cave trembling slightly as she landed on all fours, and repeated the procedure for the others. 

"How wilt thou get up?" the last soldier asked as he reached the bridge. 

"I'll fly." 

"But thou'rt too big!" 

Kra'lysie winked one huge golden eye, the friendliest gesture I'd seen her give a human, and dropped down again. There was another flash of light, then darkness below. A minute passed before we saw her human form levitating above the blackness and rise to the bridge. Drawing level, she stepped calmly off the air and onto the wooden planks. 

"Who needeth wings?" Julia murmured. 

"They're more impressive," Kra'lysie said, and shrugged. 

We crossed the rest of the bridge and continued to Zorathus' abode. At the entrance, an open, rectangular room with brightly coloured square tiles on the floor, I called out his name. 

The grey-haired mage emerged from his inner chamber wearing scarlet robes, a golden, sapphire-tipped sceptre pointed at us like a weapon. His face was distrustful as he said, "I can sense an undead presence." Dark eyes travelled from face to face. 

"I will vouch for the humans," Kra'lysie said. "And the... Avatar." 

"I see." Zoranthus frowned, one hand stroking his beard. He gave Kra'lysie a very penetrating kind of look. "I see." 

"These are my friends," I said at last, "from Britannia." 

"The _kra'lysiei_ isn't of Britannia." Zoranthus scrutinised the dragon-woman closely before lowering the sceptre. "_Jea of preno soli,_" he said. 

Kra'lysie gave him a half-smile. "It meaneth little when I don this form, Mage." 

"Perhaps thou art right." He looked at the companions again, then at me. "What wouldst thou have this time? The secrets of _aeth'raesh'ali_? I know little of them, save that it maketh a kind of clone of the wearer at their death, and reviveth the original wearer after a period of time as a liche." His brows lowered again, eyes boring into me. "I can sense the undeath in the bracer, but not from thee, I think." He looked unsure. "Yet I am certain..." 

"I am a liche," I confessed, forbidding myself to shy from the word. "I am the same person who came to you and traded the Sceptre of the Deadly Seeker for your air djinni. I am undead, but recently some force has put me into a state of life. I can't explain it any better than that." 

Zoranthus looked thoughtful. "Interesting. Why, if I might ask, hast thou used an _aeth'raesh'al_, Avatar? I thought thou wert already a virtuous do-gooder." 

Kra'lysie snickered at this. 

I explained what had happened since the destruction of the blackrock dome and Mors Gotha's death. The _aeth'raesh'al_, my death at Serpent's Hold, Mellorin, Atarka, Lord British, my desire to build an army with the help of the other planes to defeat the Guardian... When I finished with our arrival in the Pits of Carnage, Zoranthus finally seated himself with a deep sigh. 

"Altara mentioned a mobilisation of Mors Gotha's army in Atarka, but she dared not stay long enough to discover its purpose. Now it's clear." 

"I must save Britannia," I told him firmly. "I was wondering if thou couldst help." 

"If thy world is overrun, I don't see what aid one mage could provide thee." 

"Thou couldst contact the other planes with thy magic, Zoranthus, and see if they-" 

"They have problems of their own, Elora," he interrupted, "as thou knowest. Thine is not the only world at war with the Guardian; neither is it the only world in dire straits and in need of aid." He snorted. "Hast thou not seen _this_ world? What is it like on the surface?" 

I lowered my eyes. "Ruined." 

Zoranthus nodded. "Scaeduen is a prison world now, Elora, and I'm not just talking about the Pits. When it outserved its usefulness for giving supplies, it became what thou seest it to be now. It used to be a beautiful, bountiful, green world." He let out a bitter laugh. "Now the only green life on this entire planet groweth on the graves of our people." 

Kra'lysie's thoughts came to my mind, "_We're not getting anywhere._" 

"_Give me some time._" I shifted in my chair. "That's why I'm here. I don't want to see the same thing happen to Britannia. If I could help thee...about all I can offer thee now is a place of thine own in Britannia, should we triumph." 

He was silent for a while. "Consider, Avatar. Imagine thy Britannia as a withered, twisted world. Envision it as thou hast seen _this_ world. Now put thyself in it, still alive and still fighting the Guardian. Maybe thy friends are with thee, maybe they have died during endless, bitter struggles against the enemy." There was a hint of strong emotion in Zoranthus' voice as he said this, and, as he looked up at me, I could clearly see unshed tears in his eyes. "Maybe thou art alone - all that remains of thy people." 

I almost started, at that. Did Zoranthus know that I was not Britannian-born? 

"After all thy sacrifices, wouldst thou leave thy world? Wouldst thou give up all thou hadst striven for?" His voice lowered to a mere whisper. "Wouldst thou leave thy world to the Guardian's mercy for all time?" 

It was my turn to say nothing. 

The old mage sat with slumped shoulders, his eyes staring down at the floor and his hands absently smoothing his red robes. "I'm sorry, Elora, but I don't see how I can help. If those that travel with thee are thy world's last hope, then against Mors Gotha's armies thou hast no chance. I've seen worlds fall too many times to be wrong about this. One more mage will make no difference in thy war, but it maketh all the difference here where I can carry communications between the planes." He stood then, slowly, as if a great weight were on his shoulders. "I must rest, I'm afraid. It hath been a long day." And without another word, he left the room. 

I remained seated, thinking as my companions waited for my decision on what to do next. The warriors that had come with us from Britannia stayed quiet, their expressions unafraid but curious as to what we'd do next. 

"'They have problems of their own,'" I said at last. Zoranthus' words about the other planes. "But if they didn't, they might help us. He was right about one thing; we can't win this war alone. We need help." 

"So we go to other planes?" Dupre asked softly. "If they're already at war with the Guardian..." 

"Then we fight their war with them. Virtues grant that when we win, they'll help us fight ours." 

***

The walk back to the upper levels took a while, as we took the long way across the bridge. The whole way, my friends questioned me closely about how I intended to carry out my plan. There was no quick way to win a war, except by losing, which was obviously not an option. If the planes we visited were in deep conflict it could be months before we saw Britannia again. And by that time, it might look as this world did. 

"Aside from this world - Scaeduen? - and Atarka," I said, "there is only one other I feel we must go to. Remember I told you about the goblin Prison Tower?" Shamino and Katrina shook their heads. Kra'lysie looked curious. "While there I was able to free a prince of that world, and Bishop - that world's Avatar, I guess." 

"If they have an Avatar, why do they need our help?" Dupre demanded. 

"Why do _we_ need help?" Iolo replied pointedly. 

"We have to join forces," I said. "The Guardian's armies and powers span the planes, and so must ours. Stand together as one." 

"And hope Britannia doth not fall apart while we're at it," Julia added. 

"Not while Lord British lives." 

"Our aim is to keep him alive, not see how much we can get away with before the Guardian and Mellorin lose their tempers," Iolo protested, and Dupre said, "Thou canst not use our King as a pawn!" 

"Then what do ye propose?" Shamino asked suddenly. Everyone looked at him except for Kra'lysie, who was watching the path ahead with a stony expression. "We can't win our war alone - the Guardian's army is too large. Unless Elora plans to cast Mass Death again?" 

Katrina and Dupre said, "No!" while Julia asked, "What if Mellorin hath hostages with the army again? Elora would kill them, too!" 

"Can't we get help from a world that'll respond a little quicker?" Katrina suggested. 

"Time won't wait, Elora," warned Dupre. 

_He might_, I thought, _but the Guardian won't._ "This world, the Prison Tower plane and Atarka are the only worlds I have living contacts on that might help us." I said aloud. "Our best hopes." 

"Only three?" Shamino asked. He alone seemed disappointed it wouldn't be any more. "Art thou sure we'll get enough people?" 

"As many as we can who fight the Guardian," I assured him, and he nodded. 

"You realise that doing this will effectively put all our eggs in one basket?" Kra'lysie said without turning. "Moving all those who resist the Guardian across a span of planes into Britannia, I mean. If we lose, Avatar..." 

"I don't think we have a choice," I replied. "You're right, but we _need_ their help. And they know the risks. I'll make sure they do." 

***

We left the Pits without incident and emerged into sunlight just in time to see Cale arrive. At first, I thought he was the sun breaking through the clouds. He was a jet black stallion with a trailing mane and tail of red-gold flame. His great wings were black where they sprouted from his shoulders, but grew into feathers of fire out toward the middle and edges, where they were an almost blinding white. 

He landed atop the gatehouse on his rear legs, striking sparks from the stone, his front hooves churning the air and wings flared out as he tossed his head and neighed shrilly. His band shouted a single word of greeting in unison and he bounded forward and down to earth, wings folding across his sleek flanks. 

"I wish we had them in Britannia," Dupre murmured. "Look at him!" 

Kra'lysie sniffed and muttered something about the inferiority of feathers. 

Cale went straight to Hartrhind, who had noticed our return, and the two of them came towards us. When Cale stopped and twitched his ears forward expectantly, the troll introduced us. Liquid eyes of darkest blue regarded me from beneath a fringe of fire and Cale stepped forward, head lowered to snuffle at my hand. 

I stroked the velvet nose and smiled. "Greetings, Cale." 

"He's very picky about who he allows to touch him," Hartrhind said, reaching out to scratch the _molan_'s head between the ears. 

Cale let out a gusty sigh and closed his eyes contentedly. 

"That's everyone," a voice shouted from one of the towers. It was Talaac of the Jade Hawks. He waved his bow and all those on the ramparts began to descend. 

"We're ready to leave with thee, Avatar," Hartrhind said. "Didst thou find Zoranthus?" 

I nodded. "We did. He decided not to come with us." 

"Why not?" 

"He said he thought he would make more of a difference working independently." _And he doesn't believe we can win._

"Ah. That's a bit disappointing. I would have liked to meet him." 

Cale tossed his mane and snorted. 

"Where are we going now?" Hartrhind asked, making room for Talaac to join us. 

"There is another plane I have contacts on, so I'm hoping to get help from them as well. I just remembered that you have goblins among you..." 

"Is that a problem?" 

"Well, this plane is at war. As I understand it, most of the goblins serve the Guardian and they are doing their best to enslave the human race. I'm wondering if it would be safer to ask our goblins to stay here and come back for them afterwards." 

Hartrhind and Talaac glanced at each other. 

"Art thou sure?" the latter asked. "That will lower our number by almost sixty." 

"What _are_ thy numbers?" Julia interrupted. "If thou dost not mind mine asking." 

"Of course not. Our three bands combined come to two hundred and three males and females, one hundred and forty-four if thou removest the goblins." 

"It's up to you, of course," I said, "but we'll be joining the humans on the next plane. I don't want any of your people at needless risk." 

Hartrhind nodded. "They won't be happy, but they'll understand. We can't leave them here, though. I'm sure someone will eventually be sent to retake the city." 

"There is a village we passed through on the way here," I said. "It had food stores, weapons and everything, but no one living there. I can use this," I pointed at the bracer, "to transport everyone there, and then we can go leave." 

"We're ready." 

_To be continued in Book Six of   
The Black Ankh..._


	11. Interlude

_Interlude_

  
_"So. She escaped you again."_

Mellorin merely glanced up as the Voice sounded in her head, its tone without emotion. "I got British," she replied aloud, her own words echoing down the stone tunnel. A couple of nearby guards started, stared at her for a second by the torchlight, then straightened to attention as they guessed to whom she spoke. 

_"Half of the whole, Mellorin."_

"She'll be back." 

_"And when she is back she'll be ready for you."_

"She can collect all the allies she wants. It won't help her. In the end it'll just be us. This is always how it goes." 

There was a moment of silence. Mellorin listened to it for a moment before speaking again. 

"When do I get to kill him?" 

_"When I say it is time."_

"This delay serves no purpose. If I kill him now, Elora will return." 

_"When I say it is time!"_ The sharpness of the reply made her wince involuntarily. 

"I seek only to further your goals-" 

_"Do you take me for a fool?"_

She fell silent, eyes narrowing 

_"Your eagerness to kill her Companions and King is for your own gain, not mine. You are the fool if you think Arcadion can use their powers to break the magic of the _aeth'raesh'al." 

"If it wouldn't work, why are you trying to stop me?" she drawled. 

_"That is not the reason, but it brings me to a point."_ There was a pause, a brief moment of silken, dangerous quiet. _"I'd hate to have to kill you because you tried to turn against me."_

Mellorin's lips curled. "I can tell doing that would break your heart." 

_"You are as much a threat to my goals as she is, and until I'm sure you're working for me I will treat you as such."_

She started to laugh but a sudden force seemed to grip her head. She sprang to her feet and drew the Blacksword. "Let go." 

_"Ah, no, my Avatar,"_ his Voice said caressingly. _"It is time to show you that I mean every word I say. Success is rewarded, but failure is punished."_

The force tightened, like an iron clamp being closed. Arcadion clattered to the stone floor and she seized her temples, gritting her teeth and refusing to cry out. "I haven't done anything yet!" she snarled. 

_"No? Perhaps not. But you _will_ learn to obey me."_

"What if I don't want to?" The pain abruptly doubled and Mellorin couldn't hold back a gasp as she fell to her knees, the shock of the impact with the ground jolting through her body. She was dimly aware that the guards were speaking but the Voice drowned out all else, even her own hoarse breaths. 

_"That is the position I will expect you to take with me from now on,"_ the Guardian said coldly. _"You are mine and you will act accordingly. You will kneel when I say 'Kneel'. You will obey when I say 'Obey'. You will scream when I say 'Scream'."_

The force increased so much she thought her head would split open. She writhed, wondering how he was capable of doing this. If he'd had this power all along why hadn't he used it on her before she'd destroyed the Black Gate last year? 

_"All things that live in the shadow and the darkness are my creatures, Mellorin,"_ the Voice whispered. _"That now includes you. You are _mine." 

She fell forward as the pain vanished, almost gasping again. She hadn't screamed and she felt a little flush of victory that he'd given up before she had. Then she tried to stand and almost fell over. "I am not yours." 

The force gripped her head again. 

"No!" she shouted, panicked. 

_"Kneel, Avatar."_

She hesitated, every instinct shrieking defiance at him. But the faintest suggestion of the pain he had just caused hovered around the edges of her awareness. If she disobeyed he would use it again, and to what gain of her own? Better to save her strength for when she could break free. Better to bend to the wind until the time came she could laugh in his face without fear... 

All thoughts fled as pain tore through her body and mind again. 

And this time she did scream. 

***

Spark groaned as someone shook his shoulder with gentle insistence. The floor was cold stone and he ached all over, especially where that soldier had struck him across the back of the head. 

The soldier... 

He spasmed away from the person shaking him and scrambled across the room until he came up against a wall, then whirled with his heart pounding. 

Elora rose slowly from her crouch, both hands palm-out. "Easy. It's me." 

Spark stared at her and tried to think past the pounding in his skull. "Where..?" 

"The Isle of the Avatar. Remember the caves the Fellowship used? That's where we are." She glanced around the small stone room and Spark did as well, noting that the place was utterly empty. The door behind Elora had no window but was open. Light streamed in from the torch fixed to the wall outside, dazzling his eyes so that he couldn't see her face clearly. There was something about her voice, though... it was harsh, raw. 

"Where are the others?" Spark asked numbly. "Did they get away?" 

"The squires? Well, they got away from the soldiers..." She paused. "That was rather heroic of you, trying to draw the soldiers away from your friends. I'm a little unsure of why you were leading them to Destard, though." 

Spark slumped against the wall, his memory of what had happened returning with painful clarity. "The dragons got them?" She nodded and he suddenly felt like throwing up. Two of the huge, deadly creatures had launched themselves from the high crags as he and his three friends had run towards the dungeon entrance, fleeing a patrol of soldiers. Spark had hoped that the enemy would be afraid to follow them inside, but none of them had got that far. Remembering two soldiers burn to death before his eyes made the bile rise in his throat again. "How is it that I'm not dead?" 

"Oh, the dragons didn't _kill_ your friends, not that I'm aware of, at least. Just the soldiers. All except the one that had grabbed you." 

Spark considered this, relief at his friends' apparent escape warring with sudden dread. He took a deep breath and looked up at the Avatar. "How is it that I'm not dead?" he repeated softly, and she smiled. A flicker of firelight danced across a face that looked so familiar and yet so horribly different. There were dark shadows under her eyes, deepened by the darkness of the cell, but the green eyes themselves were lucid, almost glowing. There was pain in them. And hunger. The kind of hunger that makes people run as though their lives depend on it, because this would definitely be the case. 

She took a step towards him, the movement almost a stagger. When she drew the Blacksword from its shoulder scabbard he could see the dark red smear of blood that already stained its length. 

"There are worse things than death, Spark." 

The door slammed shut. 


	12. Dark Tide

**Book Six of The Black Ankh**   
_by Laura Campbell, aka Shadow of Light Dragon_

  
_Hear the waves of evil,  
Touch the winds of night,  
Taste the salts of sorrow,  
Of those lost to the light.  
Breathe the scents of hopelessness,  
Watch and do not flee,  
The Tides of Darkness rolling in  
To take you out to sea.  
_

"_They're inside! They're inside_!" a voice shrieked. "_Alarm_!"

The sound of running feet and more shouting drifted our way as our new location came into focus. A large room... stone walls... wooden tables... goblin warriors pouring in from two outer corridors. Their green-skinned faces registered surprise and anger at the sight of us and they ripped out weapons, charging with a roar.

I had scarcely a second to draw my sword as a goblin leaped atop a table and launched himself at me. The sound of conflict in the confined area was deafening. Echoing from wall to wall were the noises of steel, breaking wood, weapons striking stone and raised voices of human, goblin, gargoyle and troll. It didn't quiet so much as it eventually lost volume. I glanced around, heart pounding and sword bloody from the two goblins I'd felled, but it looked like we'd won this round.

"How many wouldst thou say?" Dupre asked when he'd shouldered his way to my side. Everyone else milled around the demolished mess hall, checking friends hadn't taken hurt. "And where are we, anyway?"

"Goblins?" I tried to calm down. I had a strong urge to find and kill more of them. "I don't know. Forty? Thirty?" I looked at the mess hall, recognising it despite the recent carnage. "I think I know where we are. Hartrhind!" When the troll reached me I said, "Watch the downwards stairwell. I'm taking a few people upstairs to flush any goblins out." He nodded and I called, "Britannians! Follow me!"

Weapons out and faces exhilarated after an easy win, Britannian humans and gargoyles filed after me and we went upstairs. The stairwell was dim, lit by one smoking torch, and cold. When we reached the landing there was no one in sight.

"Check that room," I said, indicating a door flanked by two Guardian banners, then tried the only other door myself. First time I'd been here, a troll I'd befriended had been held captive in the small cell beyond.

I banged one fist on the metal, ignoring the sounds of fighting from the other room. "Garg?" I shouted. "Hello?" There was no answer, and I kicked the door in frustration. He'd helped me fight the goblins before when I'd freed him - practically depopulated the entire tower. But if the goblins were back in residence...

"Avatar," Draxinusom said, returning from the other room. "To have killed five goblins. To give you these." He handed over a ring of keys he'd liberated from one of the deceased.

I unlocked the door with a pitted iron key, then gave them all back. "The prison level's above us. Free anyone you find and bring them back here. There's one cell at the end of the passage you might not be able to get into, but don't worry about it if it's empty."

The gargoyle lord nodded, collected some Britannians with a blue-eyed glance and took them upstairs.

I opened the door a crack.

"Is that Garg?" Dupre whispered, peering over my shoulder into the dark cell.

"Garg is a troll," I muttered. "I don't know who or _what_..."

The large lizard-like creature inside turned its head sideways to fix me with a glowing reptilian eye. Its dagger-toothed mouth opened and a forked tongue flicked out. It hissed softly, smoke rising from both slitted nostrils.

"Looks like an undersized, wingless dragon," Dupre remarked.

"I think it can understand you," I said as the lizard's eyes narrowed. "Stand back."

He obeyed, pushing everyone else back from the door too.

I opened it wider. "Canst thou understand me?" I asked the creature.

It stayed crouched in the far corner, eyes darting between me and those behind. Then the wedge-shaped head lifted and nodded.

"Art thou a prisoner here?"

Another nod and an ominous hiss.

"Dost thou... serve the Guardian?"

All of a sudden the creature was on its hind legs and towering over me with bared fangs. Light gleamed off its scales and I got a very good view of two powerful foreclaws. I could have kicked myself. The goblins wouldn't have locked this thing up if it was on their own side.

"I'll take that as a no," I said hastily. "Neither do we. We seek to join the war against the goblins."

The lizard's face was without expression, but its eyes were sceptical. It hissed and clicked at me.

"I don't understand thee," I said. "We're not from around here."

It pointed to itself and hissed something like "Ss'liks" then pointed at me.

"Elora," I said, venturing a smile. "Ss'liks?" I repeated, hoping to get it right.

It nodded.

"Let's get out of here." I preceded it out of the cell where the Britannians stared at it in curiosity. In the light, the creature could be seen to have very dark green scales. A black ridge ran from between its eyes, over the top of its head, to halfway down the back of its sinuous neck. It stood about as tall as a good-sized horse, but was longer if its snake-like tail was taken into account. Unblinking, Ss'liks glanced around and tasted the air. It gave the gargoyles a somewhat cautious look.

"You don't know of a troll named Garg, do you?" I asked.

It tilted its head at me.

"Garg? You... _thou_, sorry. Dost _thou_ know of a troll named Garg?"

Ss'liks started to reply, then slowly shook its head and drew a foreclaw across its own throat.

"He's dead?"

The creature nodded.

I didn't say anything else until Draxinusom returned. There were no other prisoners, so we all went back downstairs to where the others waited. A few more inquisitive goblins had been killed, I saw, but what I noticed was that no one was talking.

"Shh," said the band leader Talaac when we reached the mess hall. He put one gloved finger to his lips.

A dull booming sound. It came once, then half a minute passed and it came again. It was coming from somewhere below. Someone was at the front door.

*** 

We stormed the lower levels, finding resistance only on the ground floor. Things might have got tricky due to the narrow passage at the foot of the stairs, but the trolls in our midst were strong enough to barge through, taking out goblins and doors alike. When our foes were dispatched and we'd Healed any injuries our people had suffered, we crowded into a large hall behind a set of massive, grey, metal doors. They were four or five times my height and Virtues only knew how thick. The booming was coming from these doors and it was obvious a ram was being used. Two huge metal bars held the doors shut so securely that they barely trembled.

"Those things must weigh a bit," Iolo noted. "I wonder how the goblins managed."

Then Hartrhind called, "Avatar, there's another level below this one. I'll take some people to check it out."

I nodded to him and said to Iolo, "Fortunately we have a few trolls with us. Let's see how they fare."

I spoke to Talaac and he directed the three trolls in his group to try moving the bars. The trolls nodded, each slinging his respective gigantic steel crossbow over his shoulder, and approached the doors. As they tried to lift the lowest of the two bars, the booming outside stopped.

"Think they've given up?" Iolo asked me.

"Maybe they know what we're doing," I replied. "Or, at least, that the doors are going to open..."

The bar seemed to be very heavy; even with the combined strength of the three trolls, it took time to lift it out of its brackets. When it was finally free, they dropped it to the stone floor and started on the second. Being higher, this one required a bit more caution.

While they worked at it, Hartrhind returned and approached me.

"Just a storeroom," he said. "There was no one down there, nor anything particularly useful to take with us." He looked at the doors. "Think there are enough of us to get those things opened once they're unbarred?"

"I'll take care of that," I said with a smile, which earned me a dubious look.

"Nothing personal, Avatar, but I'm positive I could beat thee in an arm wrestling match."

I laughed, then winced as the second bar fell to the ground. "I wasn't intending to open them that way."

The three trolls moved back and I took a breath, recalling the Telekinesis spell. I moved my fist forward and the gigantic hinges creaked, causing a hush to fall over everyone with me. The doors opened away from us and fresh, cold air hissed through the gap to tug at our cloaks and hair. As the doors swung wider we could see what outside looked like.

The sky was almost completely black. There was the faint impression of two dark moons, but no stars shone and there were no clouds. More importantly, though, was the army besieging this tower. By the light of the silvery torches they carried they were little more than silhouettes, and a strange green glow was coming from somewhere behind them. Iolo gripped one of my shoulders warningly and whispered, "Archers."

It seemed that when the army had heard the bars being removed they had abandoned their ram and taken up bows or crossbows. They hadn't fired... yet.

"Maybe-" I broke off as the doors opened to their full extent with a resounding _boom_. Ending the spell, I was spared the need to figure out the best approach as a human voice shouted from the army.

"Hast thou come at last to parley, Botaggart?"

The lizard-creature Ss'liks caught my attention. It pointed to itself then gestured to the army.

"Thou wantest to go out?" I guessed. It nodded and trotted out to stand on the threshold. Raising itself on its hind legs, it looked up at the sky and emitted three odd barking noises.

A hissing rose from the army and I looked closer. As well as humans there were more of those lizards. A couple of them suddenly spouted bursts of what looked like silver-blue fire. Ss'liks took a deep breath and did the same, though its wasn't as large. I saw the humans lower their weapons as the creature loped towards them.

"I guess we wait," Iolo said.

"I'm tired of waiting," Julia muttered as she came to my side. The tinker had her sword out and was watching the army warily.

"I think we're on their side," I told her.

"I just want to get this over with so we can return to Britannia. Where's the war?"

"There'll be plenty of that before we're through," Iolo said softly, and I felt an odd quiver of anticipation shoot through me. I was acutely aware of the sword strapped to my back as Julia replied, "As long as I'm there for them."

"I'd as soon never have to fight again," Iolo murmured. "I prefer lute strings to crossbows."

Julia snorted. "Thou'rt not obsolete yet, Iolo."

A group of shadows had detached themselves from the larger darkness of the army and was moving our way.

"Canst thou see them?" Julia asked me.

"Ten of them, I think. Humans riding lizards." I gave their white-haired leader a long stare. "I think Bishop is with them."

"Bishop? Avatar of this world Bishop?"

"That's him."

"I wonder what male avatars are like," she mused, running a hand over her long hair.

I grinned. "Keep everyone in here for now; I'll meet them alone." They nodded and I walked outside to meet the riders. The wind lashed at me as soon as I crossed the huge threshold, and it was quite cold. I pulled my cloak around my bare arms and shivered.

The humans reined in and their leader leaned forward in his saddle to get a better look at me. A smile took years from his craggy face. "Elora. Welcome."

"Greetings, Bishop." I smiled back. "Thought thou couldst use some more help."

"That's _always_ welcome," he replied, "but what of thine own plane?"

I let my smile fade. "'Tis because of Britannia that my friends and I are with thee now. We need thy help. Desperately. The war against the Guardian goeth badly."

"As doth ours," said Bishop sombrely. "We cannot leave to help-"

"I'm not asking that of thee," I interrupted. "It's our hope that thou wilt help us win our war after we've helped thee win thine."

Bishop's lizard hissed something and Bishop nodded to it, but was silent for a while. "I cannot promise anything," he said at last. "Not now. But, as I said, help is always welcome."

I inclined my head with a small smile. It was as good as I was going to get at this point in time, and I hadn't really expected more. "Well, we cleared out the tower for thee. Ss'liks was the only prisoner."

"Ss'liks said to thank thee," said Bishop. "He mentioned thou dost not understand Drakish."

"That's right. So these are drakes?"

"Drakelings is our name for them." Bishop smiled as his own said a few sibilant words. "They're our allies in the war." He turned and gave some orders to one of those with him, who saluted and rode back to the army. "We can understand each other's tongues, but not speak them," he continued, then said, "Yes, I know," as his drakeling clicked impatiently. "Avatar, canst thou please lead thy people to join my prince's army? Skatski just reminded me that the tower must be destroyed. I don't want thy friends inside when it happens."

I didn't question. Bishop was in charge here, and it wouldn't be wise to undermine his authority. Not if I wanted him to follow me to Britannia. "Won't take long," I said, and walked back to the tower. "_It's Bishop_," I telepathed ahead to my companions. "_These people are our friends. You have to get out of the tower - they're going to destroy it_."

"_Destroy it_?" Dupre's thoughts drifted back to me. "_They couldn't even break the doors down_!"

Even so, I saw those gathered inside the gate come outside. They crossed the dark, grassless ground, met up with me and followed to the human and drakeling army. Everyone there was silent during our arrival. A few curious eyes looked our way but the majority watched Bishop, who sat alone atop the drakeling Skatski in the field. The single figure the two formed was motionless for a full minute, then Bishop extended his arms to the starless sky. His cloak flapped in the wind as a white point of light materialised near each of his shoulders, zipped around and up his arms in dizzying patterns, reached his upraised hands, then flew into the tower as he flung them away. Sitting tall in the saddle, he made a signal and the drakeling turned and started towards the army. Behind them, white fire spurted between the bricks of the tower... burned brightly within the gate.

"Greetings once again, Avatar," a voice said at my shoulder.

The man standing behind me was clean-shaven with light brown hair and grey eyes. What should have been a youthful face was lined with the stresses of war, and scarred with its ravages.

"Prince Felix?" I said, not sure if I recognised him as the man I'd freed on my first trip to the Prison Tower.

"Aye, and Marcus." He indicated a man at his side, also set free by my hand. Marcus, though, had been unfortunate enough to have lost his tongue to the goblins. "Once again I find myself in thy debt." He smiled slightly. "I have been told what thou seekest."

"Thou hast no obligation, but we hope-"

"I understand." He looked at me for a while. "Hast thou support from any other planes?"

I told him about the two other planes we'd gone through: Atarka and Scaeduen. Bishop had reached us when I finished, and he dismounted.

"It's done, your Highness."

"Thank thee, Bishop." Felix glanced back at the army. "We'd better get moving. Might I speak to both of ye back at the camp?"

"Of course," I said, and Bishop inclined his head.

"Thank ye." The Prince and Marcus left us.

"That's an interesting spell," I said, indicating the flaming tower.

"It's not done yet," Bishop smiled, leaning against Skatski. "I'm fine," he said as the drakeling clicked at him. "Honestly," he added to me, "thou wouldst think she's my mother."

Skatski hissed.

Bishop grinned at her disapproving expression. "Yes, dear."

"You really can understand each other," I said, amazed.

"It hath its disadvantages," Bishop replied. "She keeps telling me what to do."

Not long after, we were on the march. Behind us, the goblin Prison Tower collapsed in on itself with a tremendous crash of masonry and a flash of moon-bright fire.

*** 

The green glow I'd seen earlier had been a dense fog overhanging some low hills which were covered with a kind of flower. The army marched through it and the mist parted before us, swirling and eddying in our wake. Beyond the hills was a forest of tall dark trees. The unmounted drakelings ran ahead into it with loud hisses, probably to announce their return to any scouts.

"I hope thou knowest what thou'rt doing," Dupre said to me as we followed the army into darkness.

"Help this place defeat the goblins, bring them and the Pits people to Atarka, pick up the nomads and return to Britannia for an all-out war," I said grimly. "I thought I explained this before."

"Thou didst. I just hope we survive this war so we can get back to our own."

"She knoweth what she's doing," Shamino said. "The more of the Guardian's enemies we can muster in Britannia the easier it will be."

"I'd rather we didn't have a war," Dupre remarked, a little sharply.

"We don't really have a choice," I said.

Dupre's eyes narrowed at me. "I don't see thee looking for another option."

"Do you think the Guardian will settle for anything other than surrender or slaughter?"

"I don't," Kra'lysie said, catching up to us. She gave Dupre an understanding look, Shamino a distrustful one, and me a bleak one. "But the Guardian doesn't run his army. Not directly, anyway. The daemons do."

"And Mellorin," Dupre added. "Elora, thou and Kra'lysie can tell a daemon from a human. If thou canst use a spell to destroy all their illusions, the Killorn soldiers will jump them for us."

I considered this. "It's possible, but Mellorin will still be there to give orders. Listen, when we return to Britannia she'll know, and she'll probably teleport straight for us with her army _unless_ ours is large enough to give her pause. Is that a good enough reason not to go back to Britannia with what we currently have?"

That ended the discussion.

*** 

The campsite was raised amidst the trees. There was no clearing large enough for everyone, I guessed, so tents were pitched across a range of smaller glades and anywhere else the trees thinned out. I led the Britannians and the three bands from the last plane after the head of the column, which marched on to one of the larger clearings. When we reached it, Bishop rode over to me on the drakeling Skatski. He dismounted, motioning for us to stop.

"Elora," he said, "I'll take thee to Prince Felix. There are tents and provisions over there if thy friends wish to rest."

I turned to Dupre. "Think you can get everyone organised and into tents?"

He nodded. "Besides, I have these two to share the work." The knight slung a companionable arm across Iolo's and Shamino's shoulders.

Bishop said, "I'll send for Mentar to help ye find a suitable site to pitch camp. Hm, actually, couldst thou get him for me, Skatski?"

The drakeling bobbed her head, then tilted it to one side and chirped questioningly.

"Don't worry. I _think_ I can make it to the command pavilion without fainting from fatigue."

Skatski sniffed and ran off. Bishop said to me, "Let's go."

"See you later," I said to my friends, and went after him.

"I understand most of what's going on with thee," Bishop said as we walked towards a large green tent. "I've been in contact with Altara and Zoranthus. Wouldst thou explain something to me, though? What is a liche?"

"It's a powerful kind of undead." When he raised a brow in polite incomprehension, I asked, "Do you have any kinds of undead creatures here? No?" I shrugged off my surprise. "An undead is basically a creature that has lived and died, but is then reanimated through magical means."

"Like through a runic Resurrection spell?"

"I think I know what you mean, but no. Resurrection restores someone to life. If you're undead..." I spread my hands, trying to find the right words. "...you can walk, talk, think, remember... but you don't breathe and you're not alive. You have no heartbeat and feel no hunger or thirst or pain. The goal of the undead is to bring all living creatures to the same fate."

Bishop glanced at me. "And thy goal?"

"Defeat the Guardian and save my world."

"Now that is something I can relate to." He paused at the entrance to the tent, one hand pulling back the flap. "I'm glad thou'rt here to help us, Avatar. I know thou hast defeated him before."

"Let's show him what two champions can do," I grinned.

And together, we entered the command pavilion. Felix was inside, seated before a large wooden table across which was spread an impressive-looking map. Animal furs covered the ground and warmth radiated from an iron brazier that stood near a bedroll and some neatly piled blankets. A single lantern burned on the table, casting a bright light over the map.

"Your Highness," Bishop said, bowing, and I imitated him.

Prince Felix looked up and grimaced. "Please, Bishop, I asked thee not to call me that in private."

"Just setting an example for the Avatar, my Prince," Bishop said blandly, and winked at me.

Felix sighed and gave me a look of mock warning. "I hope thou wilt not follow his example."

"You remind me of my own liege back in Britannia, Felix," I grinned.

"He soundeth like a very intelligent man already." Felix leaned back in his chair, grey eyes appraising the two of us. "What an interesting night. Please sit."

Bishop and I pulled out stools for ourselves from under the table and sat down.

"Elora," Felix said at last, "thou and thy friends have joined mine army, but how will ye serve?"

I had expected this question. If Bishop and Felix knew as much about me as I thought, then they'd know I was in fact accustomed to a position of command. But this wasn't Britannia, or the Britannian army. If I wanted Felix's people to serve - to help - me later, I would have to show I was willing to do the same for them first. "We will serve in whatever duty you assign us," I said. "We are at your complete disposal."

"Let's not go _that_ far," Felix said wryly. "I don't intend to _dispose_ of any of ye."

"Figure of speech," I apologised.

He nodded. "I think it would not be an advantageous move to separate thee from thy people, but it _would_ be useful to have thee retain a position of command. Wouldst thou serve under me as a captain to those thou brought to mine army and to any others I put under thy charge?"

"Who am I answerable to, save yourself and Bishop?"

"No one. I want to keep thee close, if thou hast no objection."

I inclined my head. "I will so serve."

"Thank thee, Avatar. Is there anything else thou wishest to know now, or shall I let thee retire until halfdark? We can speak of the campaign after thou hast rested."

"Uh, knowing what 'halfdark' means would be nice, High- Felix."

"Ah, of course. Halfdark is when one moon has set, six hours from now. Moonset is when both moons have set, two hours later. What follows, dark tide, lasts eight hours. Halflight is when the first moon rises, moonrise is two hours later when the second rises."

"When's... sunrise?" I asked slowly.

"Our last sunrise was a decade ago, Elora," Bishop said. "This was some time after the gobs swore allegiance to the Guardian."

I frowned. "What happened? He didn't destroy the sun, surely?"

"No. At least, we don't think he hath. I remember the day it happened. It was full noon, but a blackness crept up the edges of the horizon, darker and faster than any cloud. Blue sky went blacker than deepest night until only a circle of sunlight remained high in the middle of the sky. Then it too was gone, and there hath only been darkness since."

"The moons are still with us," Felix said in a soft voice, "though without the sun they are always dark and our magic is stunted." When I gave him an inquiring look, he said, "Our mages and the drakelings draw their powers from light. Sun, moons, stars, fire, lightning. We always get a small measure of light from the moons - what they reflect from our world Tarna, but it is like comparing a candle's light to the sun's. In complete darkness we have no magic."

"Not even I," Bishop added, "and I can still handle powerful spells with only a little light sustaining me."

"What about the goblins?" I asked.

"Runic magic. They rely on runestones, which is a different magic. One we can't use."

Softly, I replied, "I can. And I don't need runestones."

Felix leaned his elbows on the table and looked intrigued. "Did we ever decide which magic was more powerful, Bishop?"

Bishop shrugged. "It depended on the strength of the people wielding those magicks, Felix. And the circumstances." He looked at me. "We've only heard stories of thine own power, Avatar. How strong wouldst thou deem thyself?"

"At this point in time," I replied, "more powerful than any mage living."

"Ah. The undead factor?"

I nodded.

"Altara said that the undead... _feel_ differently to the living. Why can't I sense anything strange about thee?"

"Something happened to me in the previous world, and I'm not entirely sure what. I'm still undead, but at the same time I feel alive. I breathe, for one thing." I frowned, touching one hand to my forehead as it started to throb. "I feel pain." Then I paused, remembering Zoranthus had sensed an undead presence in his room. "Maybe it's our different kinds of magicks."

"Perhaps."

"Ye should both get some rest," Felix said. "I'll fill thee in on our next battle plans later, Avatar."

"Bishop and I bowed then left the tent for the cooler air outside. I looked around with new eyes, seeing a world that had been denied sunlight for ten years.

"How is this forest still alive?" I asked softly, watching the leaves quiver in the breeze. "I could almost swear... it's like there _is_ light. On the leaves. Moonlight."

Bishop approached a thick silver-brown trunk and waved his arm through it like it wasn't there. "It isn't a living forest," he answered, a trace of sadness in his voice. He suddenly looked very old as he added, "There aren't any, anymore. What thou seest here is the desperate memories of the tree-sprites, always striving to recreate what was lost, but unable to turn illusion into reality. Some of these are still actual trees... ah." He pulled down the branch of another tree then looked at me meaningfully. He ran his fingers between the leaves. The greenery didn't stir as his hand passed straight through.

I watched the leaves shake as he released the branch and it creaked up to its original position. "Canst thou tell me how this all started?"

"Which part? The war with the goblins or the Guardian?"

"The goblins came first, yes?"

Bishop sighed heavily. "No. Humans did."

"What do you mean?"

"Goblins lived in these lands long before we did. Our place in Tarna was elsewhere." Bishop slowly lowered himself to a flat rock and stretched out his legs. "The human lands were destroyed many centuries ago as a... consequence to certain events. Humankind fled those shores even as they sank, and those who escaped sailed here.

"We settled in the south at first, near the great Serpent Wood. That is where we met the drakelings and made our first alliance in these lands, one that quickly became a mutual friendship.

"It wasn't more than a week after our landing that envoys from the king at the time came to see us. There were... not many of us." Bishop closed his eyes briefly. I got the strong impression that this was more than history - it was personal. "A thousand, maybe a few more. Clearly we were no threat, and the goblin envoys, once assured we were not invaders, bade us welcome and invited our leaders to Har-Trask to meet with the goblin king.

"They went, and another alliance was formed. Humans were welcome to settle and travel the land so long as they obeyed the laws. If they did not, they would be treated like any goblin criminal.

"The goblin king of that time was wise and just," he said, almost reflectively. "He was also generous in his dealings. It was at his behest that the goblins aided us in building three cities in the south. It is... a strange thing that these three cities are all that the goblins have not managed to take during the war." He shrugged.

"Humans travelled these lands from coast to coast over the next few generations, and though some settled in goblin cities it became plain how different our races were. And the more our population grew, the more apparent it was that some of them feared us. So we resolved to keep to our own cities, both those in the south and others that we built in later years. Felix's ancestors, for example, built their homes in the northern lands of Fyrna.

"Many centuries later, when humans were numerous enough to warrant being called a race, a goblin queen ascended the throne who felt very differently to us than the first king had. The human slave trade was legalised. There was much outrage, naturally, some even among the goblins, but the queen would not recant. It was _law_.

"At first it was rare for goblins to take advantage of this. Unless one was travelling alone or in a small and ill-equipped group, there was no danger of being harassed and-" his lips twisted "-sold. But this, too, changed. One day there was a full attack on a human village - everyone who wasn't killed was put on the slavers' market. _Two hundred_ people, Elora, children included. The cry for justice went up from neighbouring villages and they banded together, heading for Har-Trask to demand the freedom of their kin.

"They were not ignored," he went on grimly, a frown knotting his brow. "The gates opened and they were brought in, then ordered to surrender. When they would not, the royal guard slaughtered them to a man. Those who'd been left behind in one of the villages were later rounded up and sold.

"Lady Yulrica of the eastern holding of Kans was the first to break the treaty between humans and goblins, if in fact it hadn't already been shattered. She led her people against a goblin slaver market, killing the goblins and freeing all the human prisoners. Kans was attacked the next day, but Yulrica had taken everyone into hiding further east. Cheated of her 'lawful retaliation', the goblin queen declared there would be war with humans if Yulrica wasn't handed over and the slaves paid for or returned.

"In answer, humans declared war on the goblins. This was fifty years ago, Avatar. For four decades of that we were the winning side. The mages from the Academy of Illumination had joined their powers - those from Sunkeep, Moonspire and Startower harnessed the strength of Light, and it seemed with them there could be no losing the war. One by one the goblin cities fell to us, and we made our inexorable way to Har-Trask and, we thought, victory.

"The best day was chosen for the siege; the sun and both moons were visible as well as Sentaryal, the brightest star in the sky. With all three light-sources present the mages of the Academy could bring down Har-Trask stone by blazing stone if the goblins did not surrender. The current goblin ruler, she was the first to call herself the Regent, appeared on the battlements to 'listen' to our demands. As we spoke... that is when the darkness began to creep up the sky. We were practically paralysed by the sight. It wasn't until the Regent shouted out the words: 'Tarna hath been promised to the goblins by the Guardian!' that one of the humans," here he looked at me directly, "recovered and used the last rays of light to call down sunfire on every goblin standing atop the battlements."

"You?" I guessed in a soft voice, and he nodded once.

"But they were ready. Some of the goblins up there were not warriors, but runic mages. They protected themselves from the fire, and when the sky was completely black they turned their magic on us. We were almost annihilated, the Academy of Illumination all but destroyed. This was the turning point of the war." His voice held steady, but his eyes looked only at the ground. "From there it hath only gotten worse. The Guardian sent plagues, and there hath been famine as the animals sickened and the crops died from lack of sunlight. Even the goblins felt the sting of hunger, but they found ways around it." His hands clenched in anger. "Didst thou hear about the breeding program? If captive humans aren't used as slaves they are penned and bred for _food_."

I nodded slowly. "Felix... mentioned it when I first met him in the Prison Tower. But go on with your story. How did they come to catch you?"

He seemed to relax a little, but his voice was still tight as he spoke. "The goblins fought with renewed strength with the Guardian on their side. He aided them in more ways I know of, even going so far as to transport allies from other planes. The goblins swept through the north, conquering all in only seven years. Only the south was able to resist them with the aid of the drakelings and the defence of Serpent Wood, but still the three remaining strongholds grew weaker every day. Maybe three months before thou didst find me in the Prison Tower was when I was captured. Myself and two others went to a secret meeting with some contacts we had met dozens of times before. They betrayed us, however, and we found ourselves surrounded by enemies instead. We fought as fiercely as we could, but the meeting had been deliberately timed for dark tide and in a place where only a single candle was lit - not enough light for us to defend ourselves effectively with magic.

"We fought... but as skilled as we were, there were too many of them. Both my friends were killed, and when the goblins saw I wouldn't let myself be taken alive they used their runic magic to knock me out, bind me and carry me away." He fell silent.

"The first time I met Felix," I said, gently drawing the topic from his lost friends, "he said there was a rumour you were allied with darker powers than the Guardian."

Bishop looked a little startled at first, then chuckled and shook his head. "A while back, after the sky went dark, we fostered a rumour that I had discovered a way to spin magic from not only light, but also dark. With my ability to draw strength even from the darkened moons these words took hold in both humans, giving them hope, and goblins, causing fear. In time the rumour changed, as they sometimes do, and it became as Felix told thee."

"Why didn't the Guardian block the moons as well?"

"I can't say I've asked him," Bishop said wryly. "Maybe he couldn't. Or perhaps he thought they would be too dark for us to use. Or maybe he didn't want to block them - a few goblins learned at the Academy, so it's possible he wanted to keep that magic for himself."

"What happened when you got out of the Prison Tower?" I asked. "How did you get out, anyway? Weren't the doors shut?"

"When you released the troll Garg from its cell in the tower, there was a rather..." his lips twitched with amusement, "...mad dash for escape? The goblins themselves opened the doors, and so I won free without having to resort to magic. As I was making my way from the tower Prince Felix and Marcus caught up with me. After introductions, I agreed to accompany him to Fyrna - he seemed to believe some of his men might still be there, and it was much closer than the southern lands.

"We passed through this very forest." He looked around. "Such as it is. There were drakelings here, and three of them agreed to speed our passage north. The goblins were lax in their defences, most of their forces having been moved elsewhere as security against the threat of a human force marching on the tower from another direction. We slipped through easily, eventually reaching Fyrna. Of the prince's estates, they had been overrun by the gobs, but we found many of his people and those from other northern holdings taking refuge in the mountains and caves of Ghentarr's Reach.

"Eventually I was able to contact the southern cities with my magic and see how they fared. They still held, but barely. On the brink of starvation, they were lacking strength and losing hope. But," he looked a little awkward as he continued, "when they heard I was still alive and free, that hope was rekindled.

"Across the light of the dark moons we made our plans, a final strike towards Har-Trask." He looked off into the illusionary trees. "To find our fates once and for all. Human and goblin." There was a breath or two of silence before he glanced at me, as though remembering I was there. He stood and nodded slightly, expression unreadable. "Rest well, Elora."

"You too, Bishop."

I watched him walk away. After a minute, I turned towards the Britannian tents. A few people still sat outside finishing a meal or securing tents. Campfires burned, but not of the usual type. The flames were a cold-looking silver-blue. Seeing a couple of warriors hold out their hands to the fire, though, I guessed there would be heat after all.

I looked at the sky. Two moons, both of them almost completely dark and one of them not even visible behind the trees' illusions. The description of how the sky had turned black nagged at me, and I finally gave in and used my magic to send my sight upwards, high above the branches, above distant mountains, above vagrant wisps of cloud...

Faster...

The world sped off below me and I passed one of the moons. Never slowing my climb, I glanced back at the planet where my body stood. It glowed a pale green and blue. The back of the moon was black against it. Looking ahead again I saw... texture. The black was not the solid black of the Void... it was...

Blackrock.

I felt myself gaping back in the camp, staggered by the enormity of it. An entire planet and its moons encased in a blackrock bubble.

Why?

How?

On impulse, I passed through the barrier and found it paper-thin. The stars beyond winked brightly and dazzling sunlight washed the western side of the blackrock sphere a sullen gold.

So now I knew what was wrong, if nothing else...

I took one last look at the sun, then returned to the darkness.

*** 

We'd joined the army. There were few enough Britannians that I only asked Dupre and Iolo to act as 'sergeants' for warriors and archers respectively. Hartrhind and Talaac retained charge of their own bands, but Cale had remained on the Pits plane with the goblins, leaving fifty-nine humans and five trolls without their leader. They were content to follow my instructions as though they had come from the fire-winged _molan_, though, so I put Shamino, Julia and Katrina in charge of them. Draxinusom and Kra'lysie I asked to stay with me.

Prince Felix told me the next day about the battle plans. Their ultimate goal was to siege the goblin castle of Har-Trask. If they could get to the ruler of the goblins, the Regent, the war would be over.

"Goblins believe their royal line is divine," Bishop explained. "It was one of them who first contacted and struck their alliance with the Guardian. If we get the Regent to surrender, their armies will obey. If the Regent won't give up, killing him or her should give the same result."

"We don't know the name of the current Regent," Felix added. "Whoever it is, they've kept well away from the fighting and our spies."

The castle of Har-Trask was a month's continuous march south into enemy land. There was a guard tower, a city and four known goblin camps along the way. Terrain would get rocky after the halfway mark, then smooth out again as we approached the castle. This campaign depended on a successful thrust directly to the castle. If all went well, another allied army driving up through the southern borders would join us for the final assault.

It was estimated that this would take place in two months. Maybe three.

"_Three months_?" my companions exploded when I gave them a private briefing.

"We'll be lucky if there's anything of Britannia _left_!" Dupre objected.

"It's only an estimate," I said.

"Meaning it could even take three _years_," Julia said angrily.

"What do you suggest?" I asked wearily, one hand rubbing my temple to ease another headache.

"We could return to Atarka," Iolo suggested. "If we need warriors to bolster our own forces, why not ask the _mezzini_? Maybe the Empress will help, too."

Kra'lysie snorted at the second notion. "You'll get no aid from my kin, but the _mezzini_ will help, should I ask."

"How many of them wouldst thou say there are?" Dupre asked her.

"In total, I have no idea. We could find, perhaps, five hundred to a thousand in a week - five Atarkan days, to you - without help. If they're as numerous as they were when I lived there."

"We could even do this while Felix leadeth his army to this goblin palace," Iolo went on. "Then we could meet him there with reinforcements. If it's so important a place surely thy bracer could transport us there, Avatar?"

"If it cometh to that," Julia said, "Why not simply transport everyone directly to the destination?"

I frowned. "Iolo, there will be battles along the way that we need to help Felix fight. We have to be with them the whole way." I then looked at Julia. "As I explained, there is an allied army coming from the south. Sure, I might be able to get us all to Har-Trask, and a lot of good that will do us when however many goblins that are in there come out and slaughter us."

"Then just get the _mezzini_ and go back to Britannia!" Julia exclaimed.

"And how many people will Mellorin have?" I asked. "I saw about two thousand the first time at Serpent's Hold. If she turns up with twice that when we get back to Britannia-"

"Maybe we should just have thee go back alone first to Mass Kill them," Dupre said in a bitter voice.

My throat went dry. Everyone else had fallen into a shocked silence. Even Dupre looked stunned, as though he couldn't believe he'd said what he'd said.

After a while, Shamino murmured, "It's a possibil-"

"No," I interrupted. "It isn't." My voice held steady, even though I was shaking badly inside as I looked at Dupre. "I hope you didn't mean that. Because I can't do it. I _won't_."

Then I left the tent. As I strode away I could hear them arguing about who should go after me.

"_Where are you going, Avatar_?" Kra'lysie's voice asked.

With the headache already banging the inside of my skull, the last thing I needed was a dragon in there as well. My mental reply was a cold "_Leave me alone_."

"_It's imagining you alone that bothers me. What are you going to do_?"

"_Why do you care_?"

"_I thought I'd work on my Compassion. Your companions have been nagging me about that for long enough_."

"_Compassion_? You?"

"_You're not the only one who gets to play at being virtuous, Avatar_."

"_I don't_ play _at being virtuous_," I retorted, heading for a small, unoccupied grove of trees.

"_Sure you do. One moment you're an affront to the Virtues, the next you're Miss Goody-Two-Shoes again_."

"_This conversation makes no sense_," I thought to her, indicating I had no wish to continue it.

She didn't take the hint. "_Are you a liche or the Avatar? When will_ you _decide_?"

My walk checked for a moment.

"_When we first met, you were adamant about not being a liche. Lately, you haven't seemed so sure_."

"_Time passes and people change_," I replied. "_They accept the truth_."

"_Which is_?"

"I am-"

Speaking aloud sent a jolt through me. I frowned at my own hesitation to admit what I was. What I really was. The illusionary trees stood silent around me, leaves and bark limned with sunlight that didn't exist.

"I am..."

Again it wouldn't come. Neither liche nor Avatar, for I was both at this point in time. I couldn't deny either side. I had to accept both and ignore the contradictions.

I sensed Kra'lysie withdraw her presence after a while. I stayed where I stood, not moving, staring at the glowing leaves of the forest and the blackness beyond.

*** 

It wasn't long before we were on the move. The army broke camp with swift efficiency, equipment being packed away and strapped to packhorses. As warriors, drakelings and animals assembled to march under the illusionary trees, I had to take a calming breath.

Three months _was_ a long time. What if...

I shook my head. No. We had to do this. Britannia would be ok for a while. If Mellorin had intended to do anything, it would have already been done.

A soft hiss interrupted my brooding, and I blinked at a silver-scaled drakeling with copper eyes. It tilted its head inquiringly at me.

"I'm... fine," I said, a little unsure what it wanted.

The drakeling's jaws twitched into a smile and it lowered its forequarters to show it was wearing a saddle - almost a seat by the look of how its back curved up.

"Thou wouldst carry me?"

It bobbed its head in a nod.

"There aren't as many drakelings here as humans," Bishop said from nearby. He strode forward, black cloak swirling around him. "But it helps if people can see their leaders."

"Would also help the goblins see our leaders," I pointed out with a wry smile.

Bishop grinned. "Doubtless, if a goblin could catch sight of thee before a drakeling caught wind of it."

The silver drakeling crouching before me clicked appreciatively at the compliment.

"Only the truth," Bishop said to it, bowing slightly. "Elora, allow me to present Sahskan, apprentice to Serpent Mage Kashess."

"I'm honoured," I said, bowing.

"He says he is as well," Bishop translated as Sahskan clicked again. "Mount up, Avatar. We've a long journey ahead."

He walked off toward the head of the column and I took hold of Sahskan's saddlehorn. The drakeling held still until I'd swung up into the saddle, at which point he straightened and I almost lost my balance. It was like riding a horse that was on its hind legs, but a little less awkward and easier to stay seated with the saddle differences. I glanced back, seeing that some of my friends were likewise mounted. I had to look twice at one drakeling who seemed to have sprouted wings before I realised it was Draxinusom seated on its back. The troll Hartrhind was riding an exceptionally large green-scaled drakeling.

"Let's move!" I shouted as the company ahead of us started to march. Sahskan went forward at a walk and I said to him, "Well, we'll be sharing the saddle for a while." The silver drakeling turned its head to blink at me with a copper eye and I smiled. "Why don't we work on that language barrier?"

*** 

If the illusion was accurate, the forest would have been an amazing place when it had still existed. And large. Three 'days' and 'nights' of forced travel eventually brought us to the edge of the treeline, beyond which were the barely visible beginnings of the foothills.

And, strangely enough, in the forest it _did_ seem like day and night. The simulated light on the fake leaves followed the directions of where sun or moons would have been. It changed colour at sunrise through to sunset, then from gold to silver-green. The trees even cast pretend shadows on the forest floor - shadows that mimicked the movement of every trembling leaf and the position of the sun outside the blackrock sphere.

It was the middle of the day (or, rather, dark tide) when we stopped to set up camp just inside the forest. I think everyone was glad at the prospect of rest, but even after the trek, Bishop was already organising a couple of parties to scout the area for goblins.

I unsaddled Sahskan, who chirped his thanks and went to find a place to sleep, then rubbed my eyes and temples wearily. Yet another headache. I yawned, wondering if it was because of my lack of sleep. I had faint chest pains as well, which could have been caused by being in that saddle for so long. I stretched carefully and the discomfort seemed to ease a little.

I suddenly noticed my friends bearing down on me. Looking at Iolo's determined face as he approached, I rather wryly decided it was time to face the music.

"Hello," I said, my voice deliberately casual.

Iolo, Shamino, Dupre, Julia and Katrina stopped in front of me, then exchanged glances the way people do when waiting for someone other than themselves to speak. I looked past them curiously, noting Draxinusom organising his group and Kra'lysie taking care of Dupre's. The other groups had Hartrhind, Talaac and whomever my companions had elected in their own steads.

After about a minute of watching them stand there without saying anything, I got a little impatient.

"Well?"

Dupre took a deep breath and said, "I wanted to apologise."

"Oh?"

The knight sighed. "I didn't mean what I said. Truly. I was just..." he broke off and shrugged. "I don't know. I'm not the most diplomatic person in the world."

"You were worried about Britannia," I said. "Three months _is _a long time." He nodded, as did the others. "I'm worried too. Never forget that. But you all know-"

"-we have no chance of winning it back without help," Dupre finished. "We know."

"As thou said," Iolo put in, "we were worried. We still are."

I nodded slowly. "I understand."

Silence descended between us again, the noise of the army pitching tents and setting up campfires taking over. There was something else they were uneasy about - I could tell just from the fact that they weren't saying anything. Before I could tell them to speak up, though, Bishop arrived.

"Ah, good, thou'rt all together," he said, striding up to us. "Well, most of ye." He glanced around. "I'm expecting hostile forces to be near here, so there's a good chance we'll see some action tomorrow. While some of us rest, others will be scouting the edge of the forest and some of the land ahead for goblins, just so we can get the jump on them when the time cometh. Would any of ye care to volunteer for some patrolling?"

I opened my mouth to accept, but Shamino spoke first.

"I'm a ranger by profession and very experienced with this kind of environment, even if it isn't entirely real. My group is at thy service." Julia and Katrina grimaced at each other, as they were technically in 'Shamino's group'.

I grinned. "In that case, the rest of us will get some sleep."

Bishop nodded and pointed out a place nearby to Shamino. "Meet us there in an hour."

*** 

I sat down on my bedroll, lowered my head to my hands and cursed under my breath - several times. My head was throbbing like anything. It was like someone had crawled inside my skull and was pounding against the inside with vicious little metal hammers. It had begun as a dull ache, but had escalated. Squeezing my eyes shut in a wince of pain, I spared a thought as to why this was happening to me, then shrugged the problem aside. I had to get some sleep or I'd be no good if any fighting was necessary tomorrow.

Nevertheless, I paused as I unbuckled my scabbard and another stab of pain went through my head. The dull firelight from the campfires outside the tent glinted against the gold-chased hilt and the great red jewel in the pommel of my sword, causing them to shine a smouldering sort of colour...like dark blood. I felt a momentary twinge of nostalgia for the Blacksword and, for a second, considered summoning him. I hadn't tried since my... state... had changed. Then I shook my head. Even if it didn't work, he might be able to sense where we were amidst the planes of reality.

Another oath grated from my clenched teeth as the torturers living within my skull threw away their hammers and started with swords. I tried to focus my thoughts as I drew my blade and stared at the hilt, determined to figure out what was eluding my mind.

"Ok," I muttered, concentrating on my own voice in an effort to ignore the headache. "I got the sword from the _mezzini _on Atarka. They said... they brought it from the dragon caves when the dragons told them to leave, so it's probably magic in some way. That I already know; it's the _nature_ of the magic I can't - _damn_." I hit the side of my head with the heel of one hand. "Can't figure out. I first used it..." I frowned, trying to remember. There had been a few fights on Atarka. The sand serpents, where I'd used and lost the Firedoom Axe... the duel in the Castle of Flames... but I'd used a normal sword provided by the Empress then. Serpent's Hold, when we'd returned to Britannia? I hadn't even _drawn_ a weapon. It'd all been magic, for my part. I hadn't used this sword until my duel with Mellorin."

Growling as my skull threatened to explode like an overripe fruit, I held firm onto what I'd been thinking. "I fought with this sword for the first time against Mellorin, and I think...when I drew first blood..." I'd lost my sight, lost my power, damn near lost my mind... lost _Britannia_. No. Not yet. Damn, what had I been thinking? Mellorin...the sword... "Yes, that's when it first happened. Then it stopped a minute later and... and..." And Lord British had surrendered... _Damn you, Elora, concentrate_! When had I next used the sword? "When we teleported from Britannia to that other world... the Pits of Carnage." Yes... that was when we'd discovered I was alive, yet still undead and able to use my powers freely. In fact... "That's about when the headaches started."

Slowly, I pieced everything together into something my tortured mind could recognise as rational. This sword fed me life from those I killed. No, I hadn't killed Mellorin, I'd just scratched her. So the sword fed me life from the blood I shed with it? I always felt tremendous after a fight and wretched if we hadn't had one in a while.

"That would explain the headaches," I half-snarled, pressing both hands to my temples and tilting my head back to squint at the roof of the dark green tent. "I guess it would mean that the _life_ the sword steals runs out, as it did with Mellorin. So I feel worse as it runs low?" My head hurt so badly I couldn't tell if my reasoning was sound. Finally, I stood, grabbed the sword and went outside into the night.

Dupre and Kra'lysie were sitting against logs on opposite sides of the nearest campfire - a true gold fire - and both had apparently dozed off. I crossed over and reached out with my free hand to shake the knight awake, hoping he'd be able to work out what I couldn't get my stupid, stubborn brain to concentrate on. I paused a mere handspan from his shoulder, then abruptly pulled back. I looked down at the unsheathed sword in my right hand. The flat of the blade I stared at was almost black, backlit by the campfire, but the thin line running down the centre of the sword from crosshilt to point looked to be a very deep, very dark line of red...like a vein.

This time the pain that sliced my skull felt physical. Bright spots actually appeared in front of my eyes and I almost lost my balance and fell over right there. Gritting my teeth, I shook my head firmly, heart thudding. The pain didn't stop. Almost involuntarily, I lifted the sword and held it just over Dupre's left hand. A little cut should do it...just a small thing, really... only a tiny wound... not even a wound... a scratch... a thorn-scratch... an insect-bite... not a sword wound at all...

The sword inched nearer...

"Avatar?"

I jumped. Forcing the sword away from Dupre, I looked over my shoulder at Kra'lysie who sat watching me with a sleepy, golden-eyed gaze.

"Are you all right?"

"I'm... fine. Why do you ask?"

She stretched a little, crooking her arms behind her head. "You've got your sword out, for one. And you're shaking."

"It's just a little colder out than I thought it would be."

She accepted this without expression, then yawned. "And the sword?"

"I thought I'd join Shamino, Katrina and Julia on patrol tonight." Hopefully there were goblins sneaking around. Lots of them. It was, I admitted with a sick shudder, a much better way of getting what I wanted instead of hurting my friends.

"So you were thinking of asking Dupre to go with you?" the dragon-woman asked, one red-gold eyebrow raised.

I shrugged. "Since he's asleep..." I shrugged again and walked back to my tent with deliberate, unhurried steps. Grabbing my forest-green cloak, I threw it over my shoulders and emerged to find Kra'lysie still watching me, her face unreadable. "I'll be back later with the others," I said irrelevantly, then left to find where the patrol was gathering to sweep the forests and hills around the camp.

The headache gripped my head again and I hurried my pace a little. _I really need to kill something_. No emotion rose at that thought. Only need. Hunger. Brushing the strange feeling that this was wrong aside, I strode through the camp and caught sight of the next patrol getting ready to move.

The pain increased.

I broke into a run.

*** 

From then on, I was ever conscious of the hunger. It hung in my foremost thoughts, waiting to be sated. If I ignored it long enough it clamoured painfully in my mind like a caged beast. And when the agony was too much, when I was all but blinded by it, I took any chance I could to hunt, which I did with almost savage efficiency.

The weeks blurred into seemingly endless cycles of hunger, pain and blood. There were so many skirmishes and fights that I began to find it hard thinking of anything but the hunt, the kill, and what I felt between them. Anticipation. Glorious release from pain. Yet when the euphoria wore off I'd feel sick. It wasn't a side-effect; it was me. I knew what was happening when I could think clearly. I could remember every victim, and none of them were merciful deaths. The fact was, I'd learned that the more pain I inflicted, the better I felt. The more _alive_.

I had become a master at butchery.

But I couldn't let the sword go for the same reason an addict kept using drugs. I thought I needed it, and was afraid of what would happen without it. When the euphoria was on me, I was even glad I had it. I still functioned well when it was needful, in the same way a maniac could run a battle and achieve maximum damage.

And when my friends asked after me, I didn't tell them that something was horribly wrong. They never called me a liar. They knew I was, but probably didn't want to believe it.

It was about a week before we'd reached our main destination before I admitted what was going on to anyone other than myself.

*** 

"Avatar?" a gravelly Gargish voice called.

I stopped pacing the tent I shared with Julia, Katrina and Kra'lysie, the former two of whom were patrolling again tonight. Funny, I still thought of it as 'tonight' when there was nothing else but. I had no idea where Kra'lysie was. Probably with Dupre or-

"Avatar?"

I stopped, then replied in Gargish: "To be here." I untied the tent flaps and held them open. Draxinusom's blue eyes glowed at me from the darkness. "Oh, sorry, Drax. I didn't recognise your voice."

"To ask if we might talk," he said in human speech, though it was more a statement than a request. I stood aside wordlessly and he crouched low to enter, moving carefully so not to catch his wings on anything. When he was inside, I tied the door shut again.

"To know," Draxinusom said.

I remained facing the green material of the door. "Know what?"

"To know what you are going through. To have seen it far too many times among my own people. To have felt it myself."

I watched the patterns of light flicker across the door from the fires outside. "It's not silver serpent venom," I said at last. "It's better. Or... worse."

"To matter not what causes it. To know only that you must stop using it. To offer my help."

Chafing my hands, I faced him. "I can't. I think... I _know_ it's my sword. It happens whenever I hurt someone with it. If I don't use it... it's painful. I think it's what's keeping me alive."

"To ask how painful?"

"Enough that I was willing to use it on a friend to make it stop," I said softly. "I didn't. But I think I would have."

Draxinusom's daemonic face frowned. "To think that if the pain is too great, withdrawal at this time would be unwise. But to be dangerous, the effects this sword has on you. To ask, Avatar, what do you want?"

I rubbed my arms and stared at the ground. "I want to be alive. But not like this."

"To think you can control yourself until after the coming siege?"

"I don't know."

He touched my shoulder with a leathery red hand. "To say that if you feel in trouble, to come to me. Yes?"

I nodded.

"To ask how you feel now?"

"Fine." I bit my lip at the lie. "No. I'll have to... hunt. Tomorrow."

He said, "To come with you when you do. To let you rest now."

I untied the door again and held it open for him. When he was halfway out, I said, "Drax, thank you."

He inclined his head to me and stood outside, stretching his wings. "To help you get through this, Elora." The gargoyle lord strode off toward his own tent and I let the flap fall closed. After a moment, a noise came from behind the tent - the kind of noise that instantly draws attention because it's being made by someone trying not to be noticed.

Then there was a muttered oath.

I slid outside and went round the tent. Kra'lysie was curled behind it in her draconic form, her head near the canvas wall. She looked extremely odd with several illusionary trees poking up from her back.

"You were listening, I take it?" I said.

She sucked one of her foreclaws and gave me a resentful look.

"What did I do?"

"Nothing," she grunted. "One of those _Kemah-thra_-damned trees has a real stump. I stubbed a finger. Er, talon." She sighed and closed her eyes. "Being a human _really_ messes with the mind."

"I wouldn't consider calling a talon a finger that serious."

The dragon grunted again. "Yes, well, at least I haven't started ignoring the obvious."

I looked around for something to sit down on and settled for the ground, drawing my knees up to my chest.

"I think your problem," Kra'lysie went on, "is that you depend on yourself too much. You choose to fight your little internal battles alone."

Her voice was pensive. I considered her words for a while, then replied, "I guess you're right. But what's wrong with that?"

"In part, nothing. Some things are best kept private, and you, well, _you_, being the Avatar, people expect you to be able to do things no one else can. But what's wrong with working with others?"

"I work with others!"

"When it's against an enemy everyone can see," Kra'lysie said gently. "But when you simply need help... you pretend you can handle it yourself."

"Are you calling me weak?"

"I'm calling you stupid," she growled. "You have friends who'd walk the fires of the daemonlands for you. Why don't you let them help you? Don't you trust them?"

"I trust them. But at the moment I'm not worthy of their trust." I looked away from her. "You saw what I was going to do to Dupre that night."

"Had I known what effect a Lifestealer would have in the hands of a liche, I would never have let Altara give it to you," Kra'lysie murmured. "I'm sorry."

"But you're right," I said. "On Earth, we have people who are addicted to certain things that aren't good for them. And for most, the mistake is thinking they can get through it without help. Like me. They - _we_ - think we can handle it."

"Pride, Avatar?"

I nodded. "That or you don't want your friends to worry. But if they're any kind of friend, they already are."

We were silent for a minute. Kra'lysie closed her glowing eyes and exhaled slowly. I could feel the furnace heat of it before the cold returned.

"Looks like compassion is working for you," I said at last. "But if you knew what was happening, why didn't you confront me sooner?"

"Wasn't it obvious to you?"

"Yes, but..." I frowned, rubbing a boot with both hands. "Then why are we talking _now_?"

She shrugged both massive wings. "_You_ came to _me_, Avatar."

"You were hiding behind the tent!"

"I was _not_ hiding. And in case it's not obvious, I don't _fit _in that tent."

Looking at her intently, I folded my arms. "Who you? You can't just be a dragon."

"Just? Is that an insult?"

"You're changing the topic."

"Yes," she agreed, and scratched her neck.

"When will you tell me?"

She grinned. "What makes you think I'm anything other than what I am?"

I braced my hands on the ground behind me and looked up at her. "I don't know. Something. You always seem to know more than you let on."

"I haven't told you everything," she confirmed. "But I don't think I've told you anything about myself that isn't true." She stared off at the sky, then. "I think we're both alike in that respect."

*** 

The next week went as slowly as the previous ones had been fast. Well, they seemed that way to me. Now that I was pacing myself with my addiction, I was more or less in control of myself. So long as I didn't inflict too much pain with my sword in too little time, I avoided the incredible - and dangerous - high that followed after. So long as I went hunting every one or two days, I avoided my own pain.

Draxinusom was with my every time.

"To think," he said one night as we stalked the dark foothills, "that you might have trouble at the siege."

"Large-scale killing," I said softly, nodding. "I can't sit it out." And with my tone of voice, I'd inadvertently told him I didn't _want_ to sit it out.

His blue eyes glittered at me. "To be enough for tonight?"

I forced myself to sheathe the Lifestealer. "Yes."

We turned back, picking our way down the rocky slopes to flat ground. Draxinusom spread his wings and glided over some of the steeper bits.

"What do you think I should do?" I asked him, jumping down from a white boulder.

"To ask you the same."

"I was thinking magic, but... if I use too much of _that_ my liche side comes out."

"To suggest, perhaps, a regular sword?" He stopped to look back at me, grinning faintly.

I gaped at him. "I can't _believe_ I didn't think of that."

The gargoyle chuckled. "To meet with your approval then?"

"Definitely." I reached his side and we started down the last slope together. "I don't think I'll be able to leave the Lifestealer behind, though."

"To take it into battle with you, then. But to not use it."

"Do you know what 'genius' means, my Lord?"

"To usually be a vast exaggeration, Avatar," he replied wryly, "but to take it as a compliment."

I smiled and cleared the last stand of rocks with a jump. I felt good until I thought of the siege again. Some of us wouldn't make it, I realised. Some Britannians wouldn't live to see their homes again. It was Atarka's desert all over again, only this time I knew the deaths could be avoided. Was I making the wrong choice? I guessed we'd find out...

"To be sad."

"Yes."

I didn't elaborate, but I knew he understood perfectly.

*** 

At the end of the estimated three months, we'd reached Har-Trask. The goblin fortress was an imposing structure of grey rock, across which a green-gold lichen crept like a leprous disease. It stood in the middle of a shallow bowl of a valley, and I could see from a distance the banners of the Guardian fluttering from the five towers.

"That's it," Bishop said softly. He lay flat on a rise overlooking the valley with Felix and Marcus on one side of him and myself on the other. "Normally them being in a valley would be an advantage to attackers, but-"

"-they know we're coming," Felix finished.

"What about our southern armies?" I asked, absently noting there was no moat.

"In position."

I sent my sight out to take a look. There were several hundred warriors camped on the south side of the valley. "Are there meant to be goblins with them?" I asked back where I was sitting.

"They're our allies. They won't be fighting, though, for their own safety."

I returned and looked past Bishop at him. "When do we attack?"

The Prince motioned with his head. "Let's go back to the camp."

*** 

"The heart of this operation is to get to the Regent," Felix said, using a polished red stone to hold open a map of the castle and the valley. "The Regent is a goblin king or queen, but they haven't termed themselves thus since handing over sovereignty to the Guardian.

"This is what we know of the place from goblins who have been there and joined us, but it's not as important as the surrounding grounds. The main gate is here, facing west, and there's a smaller one to the east."

"What about infiltration?" I suggested. "Is that an alternative to battle?"

"No live human is permitted inside the castle," Bishop explained. "A goblin might be able to do it, but if I were in that castle right now I'd believe any 'wounded messengers' were spies. Furthermore, we were informed by Milenus, a goblin spy who used to be in a very valuable position within the palace, that they may have some sort of animal in there that can detect treachery."

"Invisibility?"

Marcus shook his head and Bishop said, "That's a runic spell. Not only are we unable to duplicate it with our own magic, they'd be able to detect it. We've had goblins who have tried. And died."

Felix returned the discussion to the map. "There are no gardens or rockeries we have to worry about..."

I resisted the desire to say I might be able to get in undetected under an Invisibility spell and tried to pay attention.

"Bishop, Marcus and I will lead our people against the west gate first," Felix was saying. "Bishop himself will blow through the gate while we tackle anyone who tries to attack him. Goblin archers should pose no threat - we've developed a spell to defend against small missile weapons.

"When the gate is down, the southern forces will join us in storming the castle." He traced a wide circle around the drawing of the fortress with his finger. "Avatar, when we're inside, I need thee and thy people to surround Har-Trask and make sure no one, especially the Regent, escapes."

"We can do that," I agreed, "but you don't need us for the fight?"

"We will hold ye in reserve. If we need ye at all for any fighting support, Bishop will signal thee."

"Let me guess," I said, smiling, "I'll know it when I see it?"

Bishop's weathered face drew into a grin.

"If we're required as such," I continued, looking at the prince again, "is there any particular way you'd like us to join the fight?"

"As fast as possible."

My smile turned grim. "Understood."

"It's reported that our numbers, mine army, thine and the southerners, triple that of the defenders, though that information is months old. We would be standing less of a chance had we not had thy help in the past battles, Elora."

I barely remembered the guard towers and camps we'd overrun on the way here. I had a vague image of us rushing each one in force and swamping the foes through sheer numbers.

"If fortune is with us, the battle will not take long."

"May the gods smile upon us," Bishop said softly.

"Virtue be with us," I whispered.

*** 

The goblins didn't wait within the walls of their fortress as we'd expected. As soon as the second dark circle of the moons had vanished below the horizon, the gates opened and about half a thousand goblins marched out in dully gleaming mail. Torches of golden flame, gripped in green-skinned fists, lit up the sharp edges of blades and axes, the blunt heads of maces. At the centre of the host the firelight reflected off gold; a crowned helmet, worn by a large goblin decked out in silken robes, holding a sceptre and riding a magnificent white horse.

"He's actually riding into battle like that?" Dupre murmured incredulously. "He's the only one mounted, too. Iolo, one well-aimed bolt from thee would end this battle before it doth even begin."

"Out of range for me, my friend," the old bard replied. "Bishop, hast thou any idea why they have rallied outside their fortress?"

Bishop was rubbing his chin and frowning. "They must know we outnumber them, so I don't like it, whatever their reason is. My magic is weakest when the moons are down, so I'm inclined to think this was planned." He rolled over where he lay on the slope and looked at the sky, as though for instruction. Then he sighed. "I'll inform my prince. We might want to change our plan of attack." He returned to the camp, leaving Dupre, Iolo and me where we were. After a few minutes of watching the goblins keep formation and do nothing, Dupre said, "Is he a mage?"

"The Regent?" I shrugged. "Could be."

"I can't imagine a warrior, unless he's a fool, dressing like that for a war." Then he shrugged as well. "It's almost over, eh, Elora? Soon we return to Britannia. I long to see her skies again."

"As do I," Iolo and I both said, and all three of us glanced up at the empty blackness. "I found out what causes it, you know," I added.

"The Guardian?"

"Yes, but _how_ he's done it. He's trapped this world the same way he trapped Castle Britannia."

My two friends stared at me. "Blackrock?" Dupre said.

Iolo, aghast, said, "The whole _world_?"

I nodded. "Looks like it."

"Dost thou think it could be destroyed?"

"I hope so. I'm going to talk to Bishop about it later."

The knight nodded. "An interesting man. An avatar, thou sayest?"

"Yep."

"I think Britannia got the better one."

"Oh?"

"Well, to be honest, he seemeth to be a man who doth prefer adventuring alone. I might have been stuck as Trinsic's mayor forever had he come to Britannia instead of thou."

"He wouldn't have become the Avatar of Britannia without your help," I pointed out, smiling.

Dupre didn't answer, and Iolo looked embarrassed. "Dost thou really believe that?" the latter asked.

"Yes. I couldn't have done it without any of you." I looked down at the goblin army. "Think _I_ should try? A Magic Arrow has more range than a crossbow bolt."

"Think thou couldst hit him from here?" Dupre asked.

"My aim with a normal arrow may not be as good as Iolo's or Tseramed's, but I know my magic, thank you." I pursed my lips. "I should probably give him a warning first. It's only fair."

"Thou art truly virtuous, Avatar."

"It's been said." We grinned at each other, then I sent my sight right out to where the Regent sat astride his mount. I stopped right in front of him, not feeling too surprised when he looked straight into my magical eyes. He was a mage after all.

"_What dost thou want_?" he asked silently, lips unmoving and yellowed eyes unblinking. It was not the voice of a savage, and my pre-thought line of "_Just thought you should know I'm about to kill you_," went unsaid. I could tell that this goblin was, in his own way, noble, and not just by birth (or however royalty was obtained among goblins).

"_Why dost thou seek the slavery of the human race_?" I asked him.

"_I seek to rule an ordered world. Humans will not adhere to the laws or my leadership, so their destruction is a consequence of _their _choices_.

"_Perhaps I should ask, thou who comest against me in force, why thou seekest the destruction of the goblin race_?"

"_Thou hast struck a deal with the Guardian_," I thought firmly. "_He and all who serve him are the enemies of what is good. He is evil. There is no other word for him_." Actually, there were several other words for the Guardian, but I didn't think swearing would be appropriate under the circumstances.

"_It is natural for thee to consider evil one who doth fight against thee_," thought the Regent.

"_And it is natural for thee to consider good one who is thine ally_." I sighed mentally. "_My lord, I am not of this world. I have come from a plane that is at war with the Guardian_."

"_And art thou, too, at war with goblins on thy world_?"

"_No. It is human against human_."

"_So explain why the Guardian is evil, if even thine own kind serve him_."

I had only the word of the wisps and my own experiences to share, and he had no reason to believe me. "_I fear I cannot, save by showing thee what he hath done to other worlds_."

"_Couldst thou prove he had done it_?"

I thought of Scaeduen and the Pits of Carnage and nodded to myself. He sensed it.

"_Should we both live through this war, I might allow thee to show me. Unfortunately, I don't quite trust thee right now with an army at thy back_."

"_Then we will have to fight_," I thought sadly. For some reason, the emotion was not only for the losses the humans would endure, but also for the goblins. The Regent wasn't the frothing Guardian sycophant I'd been expecting. "_I'm sorry_."

The Regent inclined his head slightly, his eyes never wavering from where I 'stood'. "_I am also sorry. It hath been long since last I spoke rationally with a human. I have missed it. What might I call thee_?"

"_I am known as the Avatar_."

"_Ah. Then hail and farewell, Avatar_."

"_Hail and farewell, my lord_."

I pulled away, returning to where my body lay on the slopes. Dupre and Iolo must have seen the change in my expression to notice I was with them again.

"That was one long warning," Dupre observed. "Didst thou have to explain what a magic arrow doth to unsuspecting goblins, or something?"

"No. We had a talk."

The two of them looked at the goblin army. "They don't seem to have surrendered yet."

"Not that kind of talk. This goblin isn't evil, Dupre. At least, that's the impression I got. He thinks the Guardian is good because he's never seen his evil side. As long as the goblins think the Guardian's their ally..."

"I heard the war began long before the Guardian was involved," Iolo said. "So someone hath to be responsible."

"Unless that someone got interesting dreams one night of being supreme ruler and getting unlimited power."

"Soundeth familiar."

"Thought it might." I let out a long breath. "Bishop told me how it started, from the humans' perspective at least. I have to find him, and Felix. We need to know what's going on with this battle."

*** 

The battle plans for the Britannians and the Scaeduenese remained the same. We were to wait in reserve unless needed. So it was that Iolo, Shamino, Dupre, Hartrhind, Talaac, Draxinusom and I arranged our people into position along the lip of the valley. If we were needed, we'd be running downhill.

Felix had decided to attack the goblins instead of waiting for the moons to rise. There would be no sleep for us if we'd chosen otherwise, and it would have been a mistake to let our guard down when an enemy army was almost on top of us.

I stood at the head of my forces alone, watching as Felix and Bishop led their humans and drakelings across the valley to engage the goblins, who stood firm to receive the first blow. On the other side of the valley, the southern army also charged. The distant sound of running feet and raised voices filled the air as the distance between the armies diminished. Still the goblin host held their ground.

I watched as the Regent lifted his green arms and homed in my sight to see him holding aloft some runestones. First he cast what seemed to be a Mass Protection spell. Then Mass Might and Negate Fear. The air around the goblins crackled with magic, and still the humans and drakelings charged. I focussed on Bishop in his black chainmail; he was also casting a spell. An azure glow flashed through the ranks charging behind him like water turned to light.

They had almost reached the goblins, and the southern armies were close as well.

I returned my gaze to the Regent, not believing he'd sit and do nothing.

He was holding up three linked runes. Kal, Vas and Xen.

A Summon spell.

Surely he couldn't summon more than one daemon at the rate he'd been using his mana, I thought.

A single daemon materialised in a pillar of sooty flame that burst from the ground. It was about seven feet tall, black, and sported crimson wings. Upon stepping from the flames with hoofed feet, it stretched both arms, tilted its head back and let out a roar clearly audible where I stood.

"A Destroyer?" I gasped, sight jolting back to my body. It was just in time for me to see a thick ring of fire shoot up around the goblin army, and from it flew the armies of Hell.

Unable to slow momentum or break off, humans and drakelings plunged into the daemonic ranks, screaming battle cries.

Kra'lysie was suddenly beside me, her face hard and teeth bared. "Attack?"

"No. We wait for Bishop's signal."

"Bishop might be dead."

"I hope not." I tore my eyes from the carnage. "Tell the others to pass the word that when we do attack, focus on the big black daemon."

"He's the gateway for the others," Kra'lysie surmised. "I'll do that. But he's keeping close to that goblin in the dressing gown, and no one's even broken past the fire ring yet."

"I'm counting on you to help."

The dragon-woman smiled viciously. "It's about time I got some action." She hurried off.

Mere seconds later, a twisting column of black fire shot from the human forces to sky, roaring with the winds of a tornado.

"That's it," I murmured, and turned to face those waiting in grim silence behind me. "Are ye ready?"

They shouted their assent, some eager to get it over with and others frightened, but all determined to fight.

"Then may Virtue be with us," I said. "Stay together and follow me. Today we strike a blow the Guardian will not forget, and we help free a world from his grasp. Today we are that much closer to returning to Britannia." I drew a plain longsword and levelled it at the enemy. "Attack!" And I was running down towards the fight, humans, gargoyles and trolls charging after me. Above, a scarlet-and-gold dragon kept easy pace and trumpetted our coming with a shattering roar.

The distance between us and the embattled armies seemed to close much faster than it had when I'd only been watching. I had only a brief moment to pray we'd all live to see our homes and families again before I was cutting through a daemon and plunging deep into the fray.

Dragonfire engulfed three more daemons ahead of me and I heard shouts of fear from the goblins. Kra'lysie reduced five more daemons to ashes before a group of them split off from the rest and flew to attack her in the air.

"Vas Uus Sanct!" I shouted, and the Mass Protection spell took effect on all fighting with me.

"Why not an offensive spell?" Julia shouted.

"Don't want to lose control," I yelled back, turning aside a flaming trident. "Can you see the circle of fire?"

There was a sudden explosion and I was thrown forward, searing pain running down one thigh. I rolled over with a growl, noticed the daemon leering down at me with its scimitar ready to strike, then kicked it hard where I hoped it kept its kneecaps. It snarled as it staggered back, then burst into flames as a sword burst through its chest.

"Art thou all right, Avatar?" the Britannian soldier asked. He extended a hand and I grasped it at the wrist, grateful for the help.

"A little on the crispy side," I said, wincing as my left leg twinged painfully. "Duck."

He dropped without question and I swept my blade over his bowed head, catching the descending trident. The soldier thrust his own sword back, but only struck the daemon's side. It howled angrily and I pulled the soldier back. More daemons were closing in and we were trapped.

"_Blink_!" Kra'lysie's mind-voice commanded.

I kept a hand on the soldier's shoulder and I transported the both of us away just before the immediate area and its daemons were immolated.

But now we were surrounded by goblins.

They blurted in astonishment, then stared at each other.

I tightened my grip on the now invisible Britannian's shoulder as I felt him lift his sword. Then I gently steered him out of the way as a goblin tentatively poked his axe at the place we'd been standing in.

"I didn't hear thee cast a spell," the soldier whispered.

"I didn't. Well, not out loud." I glanced around, ignoring the baffled goblins.

There was a huge black daemon bearing down on us, brushing goblins aside without a word. Those who saw it coming scuttled hastily aside. I knew it could see us.

"Stay behind me," I whispered.

"Wilt thou need help?"

"I'll let thee know."

The Destroyer stopped right in front of us and glared down from its towering height with red eyes. A laugh rumbled from its fanged mouth. "Puny things. Ye dare challenge me?"

"Why not?" I replied, and the goblins stared at where I wasn't. "Dost thou claim to be stronger than Balinor, Daemon of Falsehood? Or the Daemon of Doom? Perhaps the Destroyer Daemon of the Fiery Hell?"

"I _am_ the Destroyer Daemon of the Fiery Hell," the monster snarled, grinning horribly, "and thou wilt not escape me this time, Avatar. Thou wilt pay for the theft of my sceptre."

The Invisibility spell vanished.

"Take them."

Goblins leaped at us then bounced back against an Energy Field.

The Destroyer gestured almost lazily and dispelled it, causing me to flinch. Its magic was stronger than mine. It had been a daemon much longer than I'd been a liche. And if this thing truly was the Destroyer Daemon from the Labyrinth of Worlds, I knew it was physically stronger than me as well.

The goblins, sniggering to each other, closed in slowly. I was about to attempt Blinking away with the Britannian, but then someone shouted a warning and the goblins faltered, falling back.

With a furious growl, the Destroyer stepped forward and grabbed me around the neck with near-throttling force. I gripped my sword hard and swung it back, then forward with all the strength I had, but the daemon seized my right arm with its free hand and lifted me off the ground.

"Avatar!" the Britannian shouted.

"Stay back!" I choked, willing him Invisible and hoping both that it worked and that the daemon didn't negate it. I stared into burning red eyes set in a hellish face, struggling to free my sword arm.

The daemon looked at the _aeth'raesh'al_ bracer on wrist it gripped, then sneered at me. "I need only pull this limb from thy body to get rid of thee." It slowly twisted my arm.

"Then why don't you?" I gasped, straining not to black out.

"Thy demise is not mine to give."

"The last daemon who said he couldn't kill me got killed," I whispered.

"I didn't say I _couldn't_," the Destroyer replied. "Besides, if I'm not mistaken, thou'rt meant to be dead already." The fist closed around my neck tightened a fraction.

I was vaguely aware of someone approaching the daemon from behind. Something white. Hoping it was the Regent on his horse, I said to the Destroyer, "Why... does the Guardian... want this world?"

"The same as with any other world, Avatar." It laughed at me. "To make the multiverse a better place. Dead and silent, blacked by Hell's fire."

"Thou art dismissed," a different voice said.

I was suddenly falling, then felt someone catch me. Gasping as though I'd never breathed before, I heard the Destroyer say, "Thou wouldst banish _me_?"

"I summoned thee. The arcane laws demand that thou obeyest me."

"I am no servant of _thine_."

"I disagree. By answering my summons thou didst agree to be bound by my wishes."

"Only the Guardian hath the power to bind my will to _anything_."

"And the Guardian gave me this spell. Therefore, he bound thee to _me_." The speaker took a breath. "Thou art dismissed."

My vision cleared in time for me to see a black shape launch itself at the white shape. There was a flare of brightness, a vast sucking sound, a multitude of howls, then silence.

"My lord," a goblin's voice exclaimed. "Thou leavest us defencel-"

A sharp cracking sound preceded that of a body hitting the ground.

"That for the Guardian and his daemons," the Regent said heavily. "We have lost everything because we wanted it all. Commander, quickly. Order our goblins to throw down their weapons."

"Yes, lord."

The Britannian soldier whispered in my ear, "The goblin lord approacheth, Avatar. Let me help thee stand."

Human hands assisted me to my feet, and I regained mastery of my eyes. "Thanks," I whispered over my shoulder, and removed the Invisibility from him.

The next thing I knew, the Regent was standing in front of me in his white silk, gold-trimmed robes. "So this is my voice of reason," he said, yellow eyes examining my face. A slight frown creased his green brow. "And not entirely human himself, I might add."

"_Her_self," I corrected automatically, but I was stunned. "Thou canst see through the ill-"

"Yes."

Noises of weapons being thrown down sounded around us.

"I apologise anyway," the Regent went on. "I didn't know humans sent their females into battle, so I just assumed."

I cut to the point. "What are thine intentions?"

He let out a breath slowly. "Surrender." His voice indicated there was no other choice. It surprised me a little.

"Just like that?"

"Obviously we'd be wiped out if we fought," he said. "Even a runic archmage such as myself can fall beneath enemy steel. Besides, I am not one to order my people to pointless and painful deaths." He looked at me suddenly and chuckled. "Thou art a human to be admired. I don't think many would have considered trying to unmask the Guardian's true face while being strangled by the Destroyer." Then he sobered. "My forebears bound my bloodline and this world to the Guardian's service when they sought his aid against humans. I do not know what repercussions he will bring on Tarna or myself now that I have challenged that bond."

Goblins suddenly pushed past the soldier and me, swarming to the Regent. At first I thought they were going to protect him from whatever they thought was coming, but they stood _behind_ him as though the situation was the other way around.

I half-turned to see who was coming.

It was an action I regretted instantly.

I had never seen the field outside Serpent's Hold after the battle in which I'd died. I hadn't fully seen the death, the blood, the fire. I saw it all now as a band of survivors, led by Bishop, Felix and a man I didn't recognise, marched our way with weapons unsheathed. I also saw a thirst for revenge. Not a goblin had died here - of that I was almost positive. But against daemons... our own forces would have been decimated had the war not ceased so abruptly. I found myself staring in shock and despair at the sheer number of bodies that lay unmoving in the darkness beyond the scorch-marks of the fire ring, at the few lonely figures that stumbled aimlessly between the corpses of fallen friends.

There were no winners in war. And because everyone became losers, everyone wanted revenge afterwards.

I looked at the goblins and didn't feel raging hatred, but perhaps I hadn't been here long enough. I only saw a people who had been fooled by the Guardian, and Virtues knew good people had been snared by him before. But Felix's people would see the race that was responsible for the deaths of their loved ones, years of struggle and years of pain.

Where _did_ justice end and vengeance begin?

"Your Highness," I began as Felix approached, looking murderous.

He glanced at me. Barely. "Later, Avatar." He kept walking, past me to stop before the Regent. The comparison was not kind. The goblin in his royal, spotless silks and crowned helm, the prince in scarred and bloody armour with a burn scoring one cheekbone. "So."

The Regent's eyes flicked to me, then back to Felix, and I felt a weary understanding from him. I may be the voice of reason, but I wasn't the voice of authority.

And there would be repercussions from more than just the Guardian.

Without missing a beat, the Regent slowly reached up and removed his helmet before holding it out to Felix and kneeling down in the rocky dirt. "We surrender."

Felix took the helmet and handed it to Bishop without looking at either.

The goblin offered his Runebag - a black velvet, gold-embroidered pouch that held the runestone components of his magic.

This, too, Felix took and gave to Bishop.

The goblin let out a sigh, bowed his head and extended his own neck.

Felix's hand tightened on the grip of his longsword. He lifted it, face set.

"Stop him," the soldier by my side whispered.

I shook my head. "I wish I could, but I can't." I watched the blade go higher without blinking, teeth clenched. If I stood in Felix's way, I was sure I could kiss help for Britannia goodbye.

This isn't fair, fought with _This isn't your decision_.

Then I settled for thinking of Mayor Patterson of Britain. He, too, had fallen prey to the Guardian's promises. He had been the cause of the deaths of innocents.

I had killed him.

How was this different, save that the innocent deaths were on a larger scale? In that case, could I even compare the two situations?

Felix wasn't moving. I looked at his fire-blackened sword, realising dully that he hadn't finished what he'd been about to start.

As though the words cost him a lot, he said, "This is not how I do justice." He lowered the sword, planting it point down in the ground. "Thou wilt return with me to Fyrna, goblin, and face judgement there."

"It will be as thou sayest," the Regent conceded. He bowed his head lower before raising it fully, looking up at Felix's face but not standing.

Relief and shame burned within me. As willing as I'd been a minute ago to speak, or even act in the goblin's defence, I was completely unsure how I would have reacted had I been in Felix's place.

One liked to think I'd have done the same as he had. Some small part of me believed that, liche or not, I wouldn't have.

*** 

Prince Felix made a point of not being around to hear the casualty report. No one blamed him. If he had, he might have gone back on his decision to spare the Regent, who was being held in a guarded tent at our camp. Britannians and those from the Pits plane had only suffered lightly, having not been in the fight for as long, but _not one_ survivor, not even Kra'lysie, had gone unscathed.

I found her, Dupre, Shamino and Draxinusom sitting around a silver fire some hours after the battle.

"Would you look at that?" she said to me in disgust before I'd even sat down. She pointed at Shamino, who had his right arm in a sling. "What does _he_ need that for?"

"_He_ apparently has a broken arm," I replied patiently. "It's customary to wear a sling if you have a broken arm."

She snorted. "His arm isn't broken."

Dupre clapped Shamino on the right shoulder.

"_Argh_!" Shamino's face went pale. He touched his arm gingerly and glared at Dupre. "Was that _really_ necessary?"

"Just proving thou'rt not lying about thine injuries," Dupre said, calmly going back to peeling a round green fruit with his dagger. "No need to thank me."

"I don't believe _you_ would condone his fictions!" Kra'lysie said.

"For Virtues' sake," I said. "Shamino, Heal your arm."

The ranger sighed. "I'll find someone with the right reagents." He stood and walked off.

"What is it with you?" I asked the dragon woman, seating myself on a rock.

"I've already told you. I don't like him. I don't _trust_ him."

"Why?" Dupre demanded. "He hath been my friend for centuries. I'd trust him with my life."

She shook her head, subsiding back onto her own rock and huddling into her red cloak. "I just can't _believe_ that. Maybe I'm too prejudiced."

"We're all human, Kra'lysie," I said, then grimaced when she gave me a withering look. "At heart, perhaps."

"Speak for yourself."

"To echo that," Draxinusom said with a toothy smile.

"Yeah, yeah." I grinned. The silver fire burned on, its crackling undisturbed for a few more seconds. "Has anyone thought to ask why they're not... fire coloured?"

"To be called moonfire, Elora," Draxinusom replied. "To be magical fire lit by the light of the moons."

"Ah." Another pause, and I smiled. "Back to Britannia soon, hm?"

"We have to pick up the people we left at Scaeduen first," Dupre reminded me. "I wonder if time runneth differently there."

"I don't know."

"What about the _mezzini_?" Kra'lysie asked.

"They'd help?"

"I guarantee it."

"You fine if we stop over at Atarka again?" I asked Dupre.

"So long as we are nowhere near a desert."

"There are worse places," Kra'lysie told him.

"So long as we don't go anywhere near them either, then," Dupre said.

*** 

Felix glanced up from scrolls on his desk as I entered the large tent. "Avatar," he greeted me brusquely. "Wounds healed already, I see?"

"No, Felix. Thou canst not see them."

"Ah. Why?"

"Illusion. I could take it down if thou didst request, but am sure thou wouldst prefer not to see what it hideth."

"Don't they hurt?"

"Only when I get them or think about them, apparently. Maybe I can shield myself from the pain." I shrugged.

He nodded. "Well, Elora, I'll get to why I called thee here. It's about the goblins. Do I take them back to Fyrna or not?"

"Thou art asking me?"

"I fear things would have gone much worse without thee. Even had we won, it would have been with massive losses. We're all lucky to be alive." He stood, hands on the desk. "Again I am in debt to thee, and I offer thee the option of taking us whither thou wouldst. Thou hast tarried long here. I am sure thou art eager to go home."

"I am. All my people are." I took a breath. "How favourably disposed wouldst thou be to me taking both thy people _and_ the goblins?"

Felix didn't respond for a moment. "I wouldn't consider it wise," he said at last. "We're to fight the Guardian's armies, yes? What if the goblins turned coat in the middle of a fight and summoned those fiery creatures against us again?"

"I understand thy concerns, but wouldst thou allow it?"

Felix bowed his head, looking tired. "Yes. Anything."

"Thou dost not have to."

"I know." He sat down again, then laughed shortly. "At least I won't have to worry about organising a prison camp." A sigh escaped him. "All my life I've known war, Avatar. Almost thirty years. It's all I've known, and the same goeth for many of my people. Now that the war is finally over... I am agreeing to fight another one, on my behalf and theirs. And against the same gods-damned enemy, too." When I said nothing, he added, "Just when we thought we'd won." Even more softly: "Just when we thought we'd all survive."

I was about to repeat my last statement when he looked at me directly and asked, "Avatar, what are our chances in thy world?"

"Getting better," I said.

"And when dost thou want to leave?"

I considered. "Not until the moons rise and set again. I have to talk to the Regent. The war's only over _here_. I think I can get him to get the rest of his people to surrender. I'll need his Runebag, though."

"If thou'rt sure." He handed it over.

"Trust me. And get some sleep."

He nodded silently and I left the tent. The night breeze outside was very cool. I breathed deeply, then noticed Bishop gesturing to me from a crowded campfire several feet away.

He indicated the Runebag when I walked over. "What's that for?"

"I'm taking it to the Regent. We're going to have a talk."

He nodded, then cocked his silvering head in the direction of Felix's tent. In a lower voice, he asked, "How is he?"

Talk around the campfire had quieted. The men around it, none I recognised, were listening. Bishop didn't seem to mind.

"Listless," I said at last. "Maybe even bitter. Did the war take too much out of him?"

Bishop shook his head. "Perhaps. I think the main problem is Marcus."

I felt a sinking feeling. "He's dead?"

"Yes. I saw it happen, and so did the prince. It wasn't pretty."

"I didn't know," I confessed softly.

"From what I know, Marcus had been Felix's friend and general for many years. It's understandable that his death would come as a blow."

And Felix had spared the Regent? I'd killed Patterson for murdering two people I'd _barely known_.

"Felix is a remarkable person," I said.

"How so?"

"Had one of my friends been killed, the Regent wouldn't be alive right now."

"Perhaps. I don't think anyone can predict their own actions. What happens, happens. Personally, I don't think it would have been wrong to kill the goblin."

"Well, I'd best go talk to him."

"Dost thou mind if I come?"

"Be my guest. But why?"

Bishop shrugged. "Call it curiosity."

We both left the glow of the fire and walked to a guarded tent some distance away. The man at the door of the tent saluted Bishop, then held the flap open for us.

Inside was very dark. We could clearly see the silhouettes of people outside against the green material. The Regent sat up on his blanket and peered at us, but didn't speak.

I conjured a Light.

Bishop blinked and the goblin shielded his eyes.

"How is that possible?" the latter asked. "That's runic magic, but no runestones?"

"I don't need them where I come from, but I know how to use them."

He nodded, then looked inquiringly at Bishop.

"I expect thou knowest the leader of the Resistance?"

"By reputation only. And thou, as well, Avatar. I thought I recognised thy name. Wert thou the one who invaded one of my former Prison Towers and freed both Bishop and Prince Felix?"

"That was me."

"And was it thou who blew it up a few months ago?"

"No, that was me," Bishop said.

The goblin winced. "What hast thou done to Har-Trask?"

"Nothing yet."

"Oh? Why not?"

I glanced at Bishop, who shrugged. "Why? Should we?"

"Thou shouldst see the inside of that place, if the outside hath not yet revolted ye. For the decorations in the throne room alone it deserveth to be blown up." He crossed his legs and sat facing us. "To what do I owe the honour?"

"Thou'rt not going to Fyrna," I said, earning a surprised look from Bishop. "Thou'rt coming with me to Britannia, along with thy goblins."

"How will this Britannia place be different for us?" the goblin asked.

"For starters, it's another plane. And instead of facing judgement, thou wilt face another of the Guardian's armies with me."

"A chance for redemption, then," he said, looking interested. "Canst thou not reveal to this enemy's leader what the Guardian is really like?"

"She already knoweth. She doth not care."

He accepted this. "So is this a choice or an ultimatum?"

"A choice," I said, smiling a little.

"I accept."

"Good." I held out the Runebag. "Thou must do something before we leave. Canst thou call off any other goblins that are attacking humans and drakelings throughout the land?"

"I can. I will begin at once, Avatar." He took the bag and immediately went through its contents. We left him to it, and exited the tent.

"Not to gainsay thy judgement, Avatar, but-"

"I know, Bishop. Just trust me."

"I must know how thou canst trust _him_."

So I told him who had stopped the Destroyer Daemon.

*** 

We used the time between when the moons rose and set to tend to the wounded and honour the dead. Bishop used his magic to pass commands from Felix to his people in other parts of the world, and saw, to his satisfaction, that the goblins had all surrendered.

This posed a small problem for me, as the first twinges of withdrawal were making my head ache. It seemed to take ages until everything was packed and everyone was armed and ready - goblins included.

Most of the humans looked decidedly uncomfortable at that.

When they were finally ready, we returned to Scaeduen and picked up Cale and the goblins we'd left behind. Then I punched the _aeth'raesh'al_ for Atarka.

*** 

Kra'lysie said we were quite a distance southwest of Krain Castle. There was a huge grass plain to the west of us, a dark green forest rising in the east, mountains north and, far to the south, the sea.

Camp was pitched where we'd arrived (the Shrine of Sobriety, much to Dupre's consternation) after Kra'lsyie persuaded us we really wouldn't want to camp in the forest.

"It's unfriendly," was all she said, followed by, "Trust me."

I sated my addiction for the moment by going into the plain with Draxinusom and hunting down a wild deer or gazelle of some kind. He was pleased with my restraint, and we both spoke of trying to break the addiction when we got back to Britannia.

The goblins, humans and drakelings from Bishop's plane were still getting accustomed to the sunlight, which hurt their eyes. I hoped after a week they'd be able to stand outside without squinting.

The assorted races from Scaeduen were standing around gawping.

The Britannians, on the other hand, were treating interplanar travel as though it was an everyday occurrence.

It was all amusing to varying degrees.

I strode through the dry grass, relishing the swishing sound as the long stalks brushed by my legs. The smells were sharp and clean, with none of the dead or decaying scents of the last two planes. The colours were crisp and bright. Atarka was _alive_.

Kra'lysie, dressed once again in red _mezzin_ robes, found me watching a couple of clouds drift over the mountains. Dupre, who I'd noticed was usually by her side these days, came with her.

"When do we go?" the dragon woman asked me.

"Whenever you're ready."

Kra'lysie nodded and walked some distance away into the sun-drenched field. Her hair glowed like fire down her back and she stopped, lifting both slender arms as though to embrace the sky.

A golden shimmer surrounded her almost at once.

I'd seen her do this many times before but it never ceased to capture my attention.

The aura brightened, noticeable even in the sunlight, and grew larger than human shape. Taller than trees and longer than houses. When the golden light had abated, Kra'lysie stood in her dragon form. Her crimson scales glittered, rippling over her muscles as she stretched her vast wings to their full extent. A shake of her head and her golden crest scattered rays of light in every direction.

Then she sat down and scratched at a flank with one of her hindclaws.

"Now thou'st gone and spoiled it," Dupre complained.

"What are you blathering about?" she asked.

"Well, thou changest into this incredible form, then ruin the majesty of it all by scratching thyself."

Kra'lysie, who had begun to preen at his first few words, gave him a sullen look. "I had an itch." Almost defiantly, she scratched at her flank again.

"That's beside the point," Dupre persisted. "What wouldst thou think if thou saw the Avatar picking her nose?"

"Hey!" I objected.

Kra'lysie squinted thoughtfully at the sky. "I guess you have a point. It _is_ up to us incredible people to present our best side to the little folk, right Avatar?"

I sighed pensively.

Kra'lysie half spread her wings and stood up, one foreclaw lifted in a position a hunting dog would take. She whipped her snake-like tail around to half encircle herself, then threw her head back, staring dramatically at the horizon. One golden eye swivelled down to glance at Dupre and she asked, "How's this? Majestic?"

He gave her a hard look.

"I could breathe fire, if it'd help."

"Dost thou never take anything seriously?"

"She used to take _everything_ seriously," I pointed out, then gave the dragon an amused look. "Finished?"

"Oh, very well." With practised skill she plucked me off the ground and put me on her back, right between the muscled shoulders of her wings.

"Where are ye going?" Dupre shouted.

"The Krain Desert," I called back, "to see if we can find the nomads."

"Can't I come?"

Kra'lysie shrugged and picked him up, depositing the knight right behind me. "Anyone else?"

"Two's enough," I said. "Let's go."

Her wings snapped out and swept down. The brown grass was flattened to the ground and the few people who'd left the main bulk of the army to gape at Kra'lysie's transformation were buffetted back a few steps.

The dragon was skyborne in an instant, the golden fields receding behind her as she gained height. Soon there was nothing to hear but the leathery beating of her wings. It started to get cold, so I pressed both hands flat to her scaled neck, feeling the warmth radiate from it.

"How are we supposed to find them?" Dupre asked suddenly. "The nomads, that is. I thought their camp was shielded."

Kra'lysie heard him. "I'm hoping they lower the shield when they see me," she called back, levelling herself and gliding around to face northeast. "They do revere dragons, after all, and it's been centuries since one of my kind flew over the Krain."

And it was the last chance she'd get to soar above the desert of her homeland, I realised. After we found the nomads we'd be leaving this plane and returning to Britannia. Kra'lysie would be coming with us, and would probably never see the world of Atarka again.

The fields below became mountains. Massive, jagged spires of rock and cliffs of red-streaked grey. Kra'lysie's flight was faster than that of almost anything I'd ever seen. It would have taken us a few days to reach the mountains on foot, let alone get over them, but with a mere flap of crimson-gold wings she effortlessly covered the same distance in a matter of minutes.

We could soon see the reddish blur of the desert, its horizon a shimmering, shifting wave of heat. I wondered if we'd even be able to feel it at this height.

"Isn't that Krain Castle over there?" Dupre pointed to our left, and I could make out a city and keep right at the edge of where the desert began, the red-grey cliffs rearing up behind them like a sentinel.

Kra'lysie gave it a cursory glance but didn't bother to reply. It slipped quickly into the distance and she tilted her flight more to the east. Now the scorched sands of the desert were visible as far as we could see, though distant mountain tops could just be made out to the south and west.

"There," I said sharply.

It was so small at this height we'd almost missed it.

Kra'lysie craned her neck down to get a good look at the black circle passing beneath her wings. I'd been expecting an expression of satisfaction, but instead felt her muscles tense.

"What is it?"

"A slaughter," the dragon replied in a tightly controlled voice. She folded her wings and dropped through the sky a bit, then extended them again and glided around the exposed nomad camp.

It had been burned to the sands.

She dipped lower, the wind of her wings stirring the red sand and mixing it with ashes. I shook my head in disbelief. The entire sanctuary had been destroyed. The blackrock pillars that had sustained the protective field around it had been toppled and smashed. Every house had been razed, and the beautiful garden, left open to the harsh desert sun and wind, had turned brown and sickly.

I could also make out bodies lying on the ground. As Kra'lysie made another low pass, black winged shapes fluttered away from a corpse for a second, disturbed, then returned to feeding.

Kra'lysie flared her wings out and landed in the dead garden. Brittle grass was crushed to dust beneath her talons in an instant. Dupre and I slid down from her back, assisted by one of her foreclaws.

We just stood there for a while, staring, not sure what to do.

Kra'lysie turned to regard the pool of water in the garden's heart. Sand had blown into it unhindered for a while now, and the silver waters had been reduced to a muddy red puddle.

I knelt by the nearest corpse, eyes caught by a sudden golden glitter on the right hand. The body itself was impossible to recognise. Between carrion birds and the skin-flaying combination of sand and wind, bone was exposed and its leather armour was in ruins.

"What is it?" Dupre asked, standing beside me.

I slid a gold ring from the body's skeletal finger. It was a Guardian signet ring, such as Altara had possessed. I held my breath and looked into the tiny ruby eyes.

The image of a man's face was reflected. No one I knew, and definitely not Altara. I held it up to Dupre, who also had a look. "The Guardian's soldiers did this," I said. "Not that there was any alternative, I guess."

We looked around for about fifteen minutes before giving up. Kra'lysie had roared an imperious summons and no one had appeared, so it seemed we'd have to locate travelling _mezzini_ on our own.

"Will we be going to the Castle of Flames at all?" Kra'lysie asked as she helped Dupre and me to mount.

"I thought thou said they wouldn't help," Dupre said.

But I told her, "Yes, we will."

"Good." The dragon rumbled darkly. "If they knew about this and didn't stop it..."

"You won't kill them."

"You can't stop me."

"You can't kill."

Kra'lysie looked at Dupre, her neck craning around.

"No," he said firmly.

"Isn't justice a good enough cause for you?"

He relented. "_If _they knew about this... we'll see."

She might have been satisfied with his answer, but I wasn't. When she turned away, I looked over my shoulder at him and arched a brow. He only shrugged.

Then we were skyborne.

*** 

The first _mezzin_ group we were waved down by were led by none other than Altara's daughter, Jae'tar. Kra'lysie glided down to meet them and landed on the burning sands.

"Did ye see it?" Jae'tar demanded as Dupre and I dismounted. She alone looked unimpressed to see a dragon again as she shook something small and gold at us. "Didst thou see what thou brought upon us, _kra'lysie_?"

"Thou blamest _me_?" the dragon asked, affronted.

"'Twas thou who brought that _creature_ to our camp," Jae'tar replied, glaring at me. "Even if it was not the 'Avatar', one of those Britannians did it."

"We saw," I said, "but I don't know who is responsible. The Empress might."

"What hath that Guardian _orain_ got to do with it?"

"They're dragons," Kra'lysie said. "The entire Imperial Family."

Jae'tar looked shocked. "They're _dragons_? But the things they must have done-"

"Tell me about it. Now listen, _mezzin-thra_. The Avatar hath something to say to thee."

The nomad looked at me.

"Hast thou heard of the Britannian invasion?" I asked.

"I believe that's where most of the Atarkan warriors have gone to," she replied with a nod. "What of it?"

"I'm giving thee the opportunity to join the Britannian side against the Guardian."

The other _mezzini_ looked straight at their leader. It was clear they wanted in on this.

"Thou art giving me a choice?" Jae'tar asked Kra'lysie wearily.

"Thou art free to say no, so long as thy people are free to make their own choices."

Jae'tar looked at the glittering thing in her fist for a long moment. I saw, at last, that it was a Guardian signet ring attached to a long silver chain. "I will come."

*** 

When we'd all teleported to our camp, Kra'lysie flew Jae'tar and me back to the Krain. The nomad knew where her kin were likely to be, and Kra'lysie followed her directions unerringly. Each time we were signalled by a group of nomads, we enlisted them, teleported, and flew back to the desert for the next lot. By the end of the day we'd recruited about five hundred. Kra'lysie, pleading the need for rest, convinced me to wait until morning before we flew out again.

"I don't remember you mentioning this place as a... what were they called? _Telomari_?" I asked her the next morning. "It looks much better than that Shrine of Silence. Why couldn't we have come here last time?" I looked around at the fields and stretched.

Kra'lysie ran one hand through her thick hair and pointed southeast with the other. "See that forest? I remember it used to be here as well. If that were still the case, a good number of us would now be dead."

"You said it was unfriendly. What's in there?"

"Grey Hunters. A kind of undead. They used to be large cats."

"Tril'khai?"

"That's them."

I tried to imagine an angry leopard-liche. "Good thing the forest isn't here, then."

"_Very_ good thing, Avatar."

By mid afternoon we'd collected another eight hundred _mezzini_ with Jae'tar's help. It was taking a lot longer to find them then, so that's when we stopped. Besides, both Kra'lysie and Jae'tar wanted to see the Imperial Family. I was pleased with the numbers we'd managed to amass, and consented.

"Not being seen is easy," Kra'lysie said with a nod at me. "And If we get into trouble, you can always transport us back here with the _aeth'raesh'al_. It's getting inside that worries me. Jae'tar, have your people discovered a way to pass through an elemental field?"

"Without lowering it?" the nomad asked. We stopped walking a good distance from the camp, out in the grasses. "No. But why?_ I _can lower any such field with my bracer."

"Very good," the dragon woman murmured. "I wouldn't have thought of that. Shall we go now, Avatar?"

I nodded. "Let's get it over with."

"Where's the Knight?" Her eyes glazed for a second. "He's coming." She went out further and shapeshifted.

Dupre wasn't alone. Shamino and Katrina were with him.

"They weren't with us last time," Dupre explained to me and a less-than-pleased-looking dragon. "They're curious."

"No," Kra'lysie growled.

Katrina was taken aback, but Shamino ignored the statement and waited for my decision.

I looked at the dragon, exasperated. "Why _not_?"

"Look," Shamino said, rolling his eyes. "Fine. I won't come. Just tell me what's in the palace, wouldst thou? Thou hast obviously told Jae'tar," he added resentfully.

Kra'lysie looked at my guilty face and began a retort, then stopped. Her eyes narrowed calculatingly as she swung her gaze back to Shamino.

He actually backed up a step.

"Dragons," Kra'lysie told him firmly. "There are dragons in the palace. They sit on thrones and wear crowns and rule Atarka in the name of their immortal enemy." She suddenly glared at the sky, eyes blazing. "Thou hearest me?" she shouted. "_Dragons_!"

"Enough," I said. It was barely a whisper, but she heard it and quieted, though she didn't look at anyone.

"I think I'll stay behind," Katrina murmured to me. "Shamino?"

"Yes, I think that's a good idea," the ranger agreed. They turned to leave, but when they passed Kra'lysie's head Shamino asked the dragon, "Was that so hard?"

"Were it not for the Avatar," she replied in a dull voice, "I'd consign thee to the flames."

*** 

"Did you know about the attack on the _mezzini_ camp?" Kra'lysie asked them coldly.

The Imperial Family could remain calm in the face of their kinswoman's accusation, but not Jae'tar's. The nomads had always revered dragonkind, treating them with respect and awe. But Jae'tar looked upon the three of them with the kind of loathing reserved for those who had betrayed their people unto death.

"We knew," the Son-Heir admitted at last. "We couldn't do anything to stop it without raising sus-"

"Thou couldst not even _warn_ them?" Kra'lysie demanded.

He stared her down. "No message, not even from us, could get through their shields."

"Then thou shouldst have flown to them."

"It is not that easy," the Daughter-Heiress said.

"Yes it is!" Kra'lysie glared at each in turn before turning her face away from them.

Jae'tar continued to look at them, her hand clenched around her mother's ring. When the Empress looked at her, she raised her chin and met the dragon-woman's eyes unflinchingly. She stepped forward then, and held out the ring and chain. "This is for thee, Guardian _orain_," the nomad said stiffly, and the Empress flinched as though she'd been struck. "My mother Altara was one of the last shamanesses of our people. She dedicated most of her life to discovering the fate of the _kra'lysiei_ and undoing the Guardian's plans, even to infiltrating Killorn Keep." When the ring and chain rested in the Empress's hands, Jae'tar said, "She was killed in that last desert raid." She, too, turned away from the enthroned dragons.

"Is this why thou hast returned, Avatar?" the Empress asked me, a bitter edge to her voice.

"No." I shook my head. "That is why _they_ came. I returned to ask you to come with us to Britannia, to fight against the Guardian. Defeat the Guardian there and you might be able to free your own world."

"We'll never be free," the Son-Heir said. "Serving the Guradian and abiding by his laws are too deeply ingrained in the nature of the Atarkan humans by now. All we can do is make sure our world isn't destroyed like so many others."

"How can we protect our world if you ask us to go out and help you fight against the people of this world?" the Empress added.

I shook my head, glancing at Jae'tar and Kra'lysie. "I'll leave you to your world then." _And to the Guardian_, I added silently.

"_Kemah-thra_ be with you, Avatar," the Empress said by way of farewell. "I do hope thy fight will be successful."

I nodded, trying not to make it seem curt. "May you and yours find Virtue once again," I replied, then transported Dupre, Kra'lysie, Jae'tar and myself back to where those willing to fight the Guardian were waiting.

*** 

When we'd returned to our camp at the Shrine of Sobriety, I called a meeting to discuss the return to Britannia. It was a large group that gathered in the midst of the tents around a large campfire and beneath the stars and five moons. Iolo, Shamino, Dupre, Julia, Katrina and Draxinusom represented Britannia, of course. Kra'lysie, Jae'tar and the other _mezzin-thrai _for the Atarkans. Hartrhind, Talaac and Cale for the Scaeduenese. Bishop, Prince Felix, another human lord and the Regent for people of Tarna.

My friends had spent the day getting our precise numbers, and now I was sharing them with the leaders of our army.

"Our current numbers here in Atarka are thus. For Britannia, thirty-two. For Atarka, one thousand three hundred and twenty-one. For Scaeduen, one hundred and eighty-one. For Tarna, one thousand four hundred and fifty-three. In total, there are two thousand nine hundred and eighty-seven of us." There was a murmur of appreciation at the size of our combined forces. "The enemy numbers we are not sure of, but they were spread out when we were in Britannia. We are sure, however, there are a lot of them. Otherwise we wouldn't have had to come to you for help."

"What races are we up against?" Hartrhind asked.

"Humans, mostly," I replied. "Though there are some daemons."

"Like what we fought?" Bishop asked, looking concerned.

"Yes, but it will be rare to see them act - or even look - like daemons. The humans in the Guardian's army hate daemons, and will kill them for us if they reveal themselves. Daemons, therefore, go disguised as humans.

"Our first goal is to rescue Lord British, King of Britannia. We are at a grave disadvantage without him." I paused, considering the effects his death might have on Britannia. "In fact, if we don't save him, we'll certainly fail."

"Soundeth like a game of Chess," I heard Prince Felix murmur to Bishop with a slight smile.

"Our second goal is to free a lot of hostages. In our last battle they were used against us. We were forced to surrender or to watch each one die. Only a few of us escaped that encounter to continue the fight." I drew a breath. "There will be little reason to save Britannia if the land will serve only as a graveyard."

"Thou wilt need mages to scry for this lost king and the people then," the Regent said. "I can help with that 'ere we arrive."

I inclined my head to him. "Thank thee. I'll provide advice on where to look first when the time cometh."

"And the war?"

"Our third goal," I said, "is to draw the Guardian's warleader into a battle, with or without her armies."

"Perhaps we should discuss this warleader," Prince Felix suggested. "What can we expect of her?"

"If she killeth hostages, she doth obviously not follow the rules of war," the Regent noted.

"Hath she started breeding them for food yet?" Felix asked with a dark look at the goblin, who sighed and didn't meet his gaze.

"We're allies here," I told Felix firmly. "Please, act like it." When he'd subsided with a nod, I addressed everyone again. "I find the warleader the hardest thing to tell you about, but it's necessary for you to know. By perverting the magic of Kra'lysie's kin, the Guardian now has under his command... me."

"Thou?" Those not in the know looked confused. "What dost thou mean? Some sort of clone?"

"Sort of. I..." I tried to still my pounding heart at the realisation that I had just decided what I was going to do. "I will explain it all now. But to do that, you have to know - and see - what I am."

*** 

The night wind bent back the grass in waves of darkened gold. It was warm beneath the five moons of Atarka, and I was glad for that. Too long I'd felt cold, inside and out. I looked up at the sky and held both hands out at my side, feeling the grass tickle my palms as I walked. Somewhere back at the camp the _mezzini_ were singing. I turned to look at the rows of tents, of green and desert red and undyed canvas. The glow of campfires backlit the materials, turning them almost black and forming a gold haze above.

I watched the grass between the camp and I sway again, the long stalks reflecting the moons' light and turning from dark gold to pale silver.

A shadow flicked past the moons and I knew Kra'lysie was abroad. The distant beat of her wings was barely audible above the wind, but it kept steady rhythm with the singing. Words I could hear, but not understand, save only through the melody itself. There was a sadness to the music, but with it came a sense of abiding hope.

After a moment of quiet contemplation, I smiled. Someone had started playing an accompaniment on his lute.

I sat down, then lay back on the ground so I could see the stars. The grass whispered all around me, and I stayed there, letting time pass unnoticed.

Until I felt I was being watched.

I slowly turned my head. A feline face, its green eyes shining in the moons' light, regarded me from the curtain of grass without moving.

I found myself thinking of the tril'khai in Killorn Keep almost at once.

"_So_," a throaty voice purred in my mind. "_What dost thou know about our stolen children, human_?"

I was aware of more movement in the grass around me, movement not caused by the wind. It was hard to hide my uneasiness when confronted by those unblinking, intelligent eyes. Before I could speak I felt a something brush against my mind. The great cat seemed to relax after a moment.

"_So_..." her mind-voice said again, softer and more thoughtful this time.

"Your help against the Guardian would be appreciated," I said.

Her whiskers twitched. "_Really_?" she said dryly. "_Why should we care_?"

I deliberately thought about everything I knew of the Guardian. I thought of the Fellowship and their murders in Britannia, the Sword of Chaos, Mellorin and her slaughter on the Isle of Fire, Mors Gotha, the razed nomad sanctuary, Tarna in its bubble of blackrock, the decimated plane of Scaeduen, the-

Vocal snarls from the grass broke my concentration. The lead tril'khun's ears were laid back.

"_Tril'kha_," the correction growled in my mind. "_Tril'khun is a human corruption of who I am_."

"What you saw," I said quietly, still lying in the grass, "is what will eventually happen to this world. The Guardian already knoweth of thy race. He will enslave all of ye."

"_And our other option is to be enslaved to thee_?" another mind-voice hissed.

"If ye can see my thoughts, then I cannot hide the meaning of my words. Nor mine intentions."

The leader came forward through the grass and I sat up. She was larger than the tril'khai at Killorn Keep, maybe the size of a tiger, but sleeker, and spotted like a cheetah. She sank to her haunches and continued to gaze at me.

"_This human is trustworthy_," her voice declared.

Other tril'khai, about ten, emerged from the grass with barely a whisper of sound. One of them, a dark-furred male, met the leader's eyes briefly before vanishing into the field.

"_We feared thy gathering on the edge of our ranges was a large hunting party_," the female thought in answer to my curiosity. "_Khavin will inform our kin to leave thy people alone_."

"Thank thee."

"_Is it true there is a _kra'lysie _with thee_?"

"It's true." I glanced up. "She's flying tonight."

"_We thought such creatures myths_."

"The Guardian is responsible for that, too," I said. "They resisted him and he feared them, I guess. So he had almost all of them killed."

"_Perhaps there is a reason for us to help thee, then_." The cat's eyes wandered around the circle of tril'khai around me. "_We will return to our kin_," she said to me, "_and decide what we will do. If the tril'khai agree to help thee against the Guardian we will come to thee when the sun is high_."

I looked to the east, just able to see the horizon over the top of the swaying grasses. It was still dark, but getting lighter. When I lowered my gaze to look at the tril'khai again, they were already gone. Even so, I felt a presence lingering nearby. It felt strange... like it was trying to locate me but couldn't quite manage it. And it seemed to be coming from a great distance... a vast distance.

I reached for it.

"_Let me help thee_."

That wasn't a tril'kha's voice.

"Richard?" I whispered tentatively.

The _presence_ was suddenly all around me. No longer a distant thing, it ripped through me with a tortured scream. I flinched back before Britannia's pain, eyes widening as a vision assailed my eyes. Lord British knelt before me in travel-stained leathers, his kindly face drawn into an expression of shock and his hands gripping the sharp blade of the Blacksword, which protruded from his chest.

"_Avatar_..."

As his eyes went suddenly vacant I let out a ragged gasp. I doubled over and clutched at my chest, confusion registering as I grasped nothing substantial. But I could see the sword and Arcadion's glowing prison. It flared brightly and I felt an agonising wrench, as though something vital had just been torn from my body.

"_Richard_!" I shouted in horror.

I could see all the blood, gleaming red and wet, on my chest and hands. Though his or mine... _Britannia's_...

Then I looked up at Mellorin in despairing rage.

A distant voice, as familiar as my own, seemed to whisper: "_Long live the king_..."

*** 

I regained consciousness, complete with a throbbing headache, in the morning. No one had found me. Small wonder, considering the grass surrounded me up to well over my head. I put one hand to my chest and couldn't help looking for blood. It all rushed back to me in that moment and I swallowed convulsively, my hands clenching.

He was dead.

Lord British was dead.

I forced myself to stand and blinked at the sunlight a couple of times before heading back to the camp.

Katrina and Julia met me at the tent line. Neither woman said a word; their expressions told me everything. Julia looked dazed, as though she hadn't slept all night. She stared straight through me, unseeing. Katrina's eyes were red and her long hair dishevelled. She opened her mouth to speak and then shut it again, her face contorting as though she would start weeping again.

"I hope thou wilt agree that we've spent enough time away from Britannia now," Julia said woodenly, her eyes focussing on me.

I looked at her silently and nodded. "The others?" I whispered.

"After it happened..." The tinker abruptly broke off and closed her eyes, jaw clenching.

"Shamino and Iolo wanted to get away from the noise of the camp," Katrina managed to say. She inclined her head in the direction of the forest to the southeast and I felt like I'd suddenly been doused in ice water. "Dupre-"

"They went to the forest?" I interrupted.

"Yes," Julia said. "So?" But I was already running for it. "Avatar!" she shouted after me.

I put on an extra burst of speed, not answering her. My eyes fixed grimly on the dark forest and I prayed desperately that no one else had perished during the night.

*** 

The forest was wreathed in shadows; an almost palpable darkness weaving between mossy trunks and around midnight green leaves. Although the sun was shining brightly above the canopy, it was almost as if this place was in perpetual night. The very branches seemed to twine with each other, forming a barrier against the sky which only a few thin strands of illumination managed to find ways through. In the forest, such rays of sunlight were swirling with motes of dust and leaf fragments. They stood out like shining blades of gold.

That wasn't the only thing wrong with this place. It was silent. A forest, I reflected as each of my steps crushed fallen growth with what sounded like shockingly loud sounds, should be full of birdsong or insect calls or rustling leaves or _anything_. There were quiet forests, sure, but this flat silence was unnatural. Almost unnerving.

But, considering what inhabited the place, unsurprising.

On that thought, I paused and crouched low, examining the ground. Broken leaves were visible tracks amidst the otherwise undisturbed forest debris.

I wondered what exactly these creatures looked like. Kra'lysie had called them grey hunters, and had said they'd once been tril'khai. What they looked like now she hadn't been sure of. What she'd implied was that they'd be more likely to bite your hand (and arm) off sooner than curl around your legs and purr.

My leather trousers creaked softly as I stood up. I could smell something now. A slight sourness over what had just been a clean forest scent. As if something dead was nearby. I glanced behind, then up above me. Nothing. But the silence was suddenly oppressive.

I reached back over my shoulder with one hand and drew my sword. The rasp of steel hung in the air for a second and I held still... waiting.

The smell faded.

After a few deep breaths, I bent my head to the trail again and hurried to follow it.

I swear, if either of them have been hurt...

The deathly scent returned, stronger this time, but I kept moving. Thick trunks rushed past me and fallen leaves scattered in my wake. I could almost sense a presence following.

Then there was more than one.

And the tracks disappeared.

I stopped and turned in a slow circle, sword still unsheathed in my right hand. The great ruby pommelstone hoarded what little light there was and gleamed faintly.

"_What dost thou want_?"

The voice sounded directly to my mind, and was a snarling whisper. Each word was pronounced distinctly, as if the speaker hadn't used the language in a while.

"_These forests belong to us_."

"Two humans came to this forest earlier today," I called, still circling. "Men. Where are they?"

A shadow detached itself from a nearby tree and slowly, spider-like, descended to the ground and approached me.

I had to force myself to hold my ground. Long, gaunt frame the colour of darksilver and glistening as though wet, almost skeletal, and bearing enough fangs and claws to tear me apart. Its tail was a long chain of black vertebrae ending in a sharp point. A feline-like skull, curiously elongated, drew level with my face as the thing sat on its haunches before me. Two green lights burned in the empty eye sockets.

"_The meat-thing is ours_," it said.

That it spoke of my friends in the singular disturbed me, but I held my ground. "They're mine. You stole them from me."

"_Thou said thyself it came here of its own accord. What cometh into this forest doth belong to the_ sh'ay-summini."

"Then why not take me?"

The twisted visage inched closer and sniffed cautiously. "_Thou art different. The gain would not be worth the risk_." Its eyes flared suddenly, as if with a suspicion. "_What art thou? No normal meat-thing standeth before us_."

"Where are my friends?" I demanded.

The grey hunter let out a low breathy noise, like a drawn out, whispered "_aaah_..." Insofar as it was possible to judge the expressions of something that looked like a skull, it appeared to me that whatever the creature had suspected I was, I'd just proved it wrong. Without saying anything, it crouched a little lower, eyes brightening with a terrible intensity.

I whipped my sword around just as it launched itself at me. The blade deflected the slashing foreclaws without so much as cutting them. I had barely a second to recover before curved teeth were snapping a handspan from my face. Again I struck with my sword, bringing the edge against the grey hunter's neck. The force of the blow jerked the creature off-balance, but still did no harm.

A low, vocal growl came from its throat and it glared at me sidelong, fangs bared.

Then something sharp plunged through my right shoulder. I gasped, sword dropping from my right hand as the left grabbed the hunter's segmented tail and pulled weakly.

"_Foolish meat-thing_."

Agony ripped through me as the grey hunter twisted its tail in my shoulder. Its eyes glittered maliciously and a strangled sound escaped my lips. There was a horrible pain building up in my head and chest. It felt like I was dying.

I gripped harder and tried to concentrate. Fire sparked along hunter's tail.

The monster tore away from me with an unearthly shriek. The tiny sparks ignited its body as though it was made of tissue paper. I scrambled back, left hand clenched tightly to my bleeding shoulder, and kept low to avoid the thrashing creature. It abruptly sensed my feeble escape attempt and, with unerring accuracy, leaped at me with jaws agape and talons raking streamers of flame through the air.

Then the grey hunter vanished in a swirl of dust and burning ash.

Relief warred with anger at myself for letting it get that close. Both emotions were quickly swept away by the pain in my skewered shoulder. I gritted my teeth, fought the sudden urge to black out, and used every other breath to swear.

Then I noticed the growing fire burning happily in the dead leaves on the ground.

I swore a bit louder.

"_Meat-thing_!"

It's impossible to tell where the source of a voice is when it bypasses your ears and echoes inside your skull. I staggered to my feet and glanced around.

"_Put out the fire, meat-thing_."

"Bring me my friends!"

"_We will all perish_."

"Not if you bring them out _now_," I shouted. "Then the only ones to perish will be them and me," I muttered to myself.

There was a moment's silence. "_Thou wilt put out the fire in exchange for the other meat-thing_?"

"I will."

With a rush of wind, five grey hunters dropped to the ground some distance from the fire. They were on the opposite side of it, and two of them hissed at me distrustfully.

A sixth landed, this one taller than I was and the back of its skull-like head fanning out and sweeping up like an obscene crown. Iolo dangled from one massive foreclaw for a moment before being tossed carelessly aside. I heard him groan at the impact with the ground and saw him reach for the dark stain on his shoulder.

Seeing the gigantic grey hunter tower over Iolo like the Queen had towered over Newt in the movie 'Aliens', I said the only thing appropriate under the circumstances.

"Get away from him, you bitch."

Its green eyes flared in anger, but it and its companions backed away a few steps.

Iolo stood up unsteadily, one hand clenched to his bleeding wound. He limped in my direction, his white-bearded face a mask of pain in the firelight. When he got close enough to the fire I jumped to his side, holding back a wince as he braced himself against my sore shoulder.

"Are you all right, dear friend?" I whispered.

He nodded, keeping a wary eye on the hunters. "We have to get away," he whispered. "We _cannot_ stay here."

"_Put out the fire, meat-thing_!"

I stooped and retrieved my sword, returning it to the scabbard across my back. Straightening, I noted the sudden increase in pairs of green eyes around the area. There was also a whispering in the back of my mind - sort of like background noise. The voices of the grey hunters, I realised, though I couldn't make sense of their words.

"Where's Shamino?" I whispered. "Was he with you?"

"Only until we reached the edge of the forest. I think he wanted to be able to see the stars." Iolo had moved subtly, standing back-to-back with me. "Elora, can't we just-"

"No." The flames had fanned out across the dry leaves - not with any great speed due to a lack of wind, but fast enough - and were beginning to lick at a tree trunk. "A deal is a deal, after all."

The largest grey hunter let out a snarl of frustration. "_Put out the fire_!"

"I'll put out this fire," I murmured to Iolo, and he gave me a shrewd look over his shoulder at my faint emphasis on 'this'. "Stay close." Then I pointed at the fire and incanted, "An Flam."

The flames went out like a snuffed candle.

The instant of utter silence and darkness was soon shattered by a deathly chorus of shrieks as the grey hunters attacked us en masse.

"Vas Flam Grav Por!"

A ring of crimson-gold fire sprang up around Iolo and me then surged outwards with a roar, growing higher and wider with every breath. The two of us were covered in ash as several of the hunters plunged through the flames and were instantly annihilated.

"Now," I said to Iolo, and used the _aeth'raesh'al_.

*** 

The camp was busy when we got back, and just about every tent was being rolled up into protective bags. Those who'd completed their tasks were taking stock of their possessions and looking for their fellows.

Kra'lysie and Julia were nearby when we arrived.

"Who ordered that?" I asked, pointing at the rapidly disappearing camp.

"I did," Julia said. "Thou left in such a hurry that I didn't have time to ask thine approval. Considering the recent circumstance..."

I nodded, steadying Iolo as he swayed slightly.

"I warned thee," Kra'lysie remarked. For some reason she was holding a shovel.

Julia pointed at Iolo, then at a rolled up tent beside which was a bucket of hot water and steaming bandages. "Sit."

The bard obeyed, looking grateful, and waited.

"Take off thy shirt, Iolo," Julia said wearily.

He blushed.

"And no funny stuff," she growled. "Or I'll tell Gwenno on thee."

"Julia! I'd never-"

"Wert thou taking that shirt off?"

"Were the bandages your idea?" I murmured to Kra'lysie, finding it hard to imagine Julia as a healer.

Kra'lysie spun the handle of the shovel idly. "The Tinker had more faith in you bringing him back alive than I did."

"Shamino-"

"-is back. Beat you by a few minutes."

"Oh. Good. Where was he?"

"I didn't ask."

She sounded troubled and was trying to hide it as she watched the spinning shovel churn up dirt. "What's wrong?"

"Hrm," she replied.

"You can talk to me."

"Nothing." She changed the topic. "We're going to be having some company soon."

"The tril'khai?"

She looked genuinely surprised, then rolled her eyes. "Off recruiting without me?"

"It sort of... happened, actually. Right before..." I trailed off and looked at Julia and Iolo, both of whom were listening to the exchange. They didn't say anything, their faces showing they shared my pain.

Then a chorus of voices whispered in my mind: "_We come_."

*** 

Shamino was watching the grasslands with a less-than-enthusiastic expression as hundreds of dark-gold-furred cats dashed toward the army, their eyes glowing as the sun began its long descent above them and their claws digging into the ground.

"Look at all the tril'khai," Shamino told me in tight voice.

"What's your problem?" I asked, one hand tugging at the bandage around my shoulder.

"Elora. We're overrun with giant cats. I _hate_ cats."

"I guess we won't have any problems with giant rats," I said lightly. "So where did you run off to?"

His voice softened as he looked at me. "I've known Richard since he first came to Sosaria. Before it became Britannia, so many centuries ago." He glanced away again. "Iolo wanted to be alone with his mourning, I think, as did I. Once I left him at the forest I went north towards the mountains."

I didn't bring up the little adventure in the forest. It sounded like Shamino still had a lot on his mind.

He sighed and turned his back on the arriving tril'khai. "I guess it means we're going home now," he said.

I nodded.

  


  


_To be concluded in Book Seven of  
The Black Ankh... _


	13. Interlude

_Interlude_

The two guards brought their spears up, standing to attention. 

Mellorin ignored them and paused in front of the heavily barred doorway they stood on either side of. Speech drifted from inside and echoed down the stone corridor. 

Mellorin frowned. He was alone in there. Why was he talking? Suddenly she smiled. Perhaps he was going mad. She unbarred the door and pushed it open. 

The prison within was small and bare but for a pile of filthy straw, a bucket, a tin plate scraped carefully clean of the remains of breakfast, and a dishevelled man. He wore a dirty shirt and trousers. Leather armour and a royal purple cloak were piled neatly in one corner of the cell, partially covered by straw. 

After a brief glance around the cell and a whispered Reveal spell to make sure the prisoner was indeed alone, Mellorin grinned and stepped inside. The torch behind her cast her shadow across the man where he sat. He squinted up at her for a second before rising to his feet. 

"It's time, my Lord," she said. 

"What dost thou hope to achieve by this?" 

The Dark Avatar chuckled. "You expect me to tell you? Or are you insulting my intelligence by pretending you don't already know?" 

For some reason he looked as though he was trying very hard not to smile. Mellorin shrugged off her annoyance and asked, "Are you planning to put your armour on, or will you die before your people looking like a beggar?" 

Lord British turned away to dig through the straw like a mangy animal. Mellorin made a face at the room's stench and went back through the door to wait for him. 

"Thou wilt not win, thou knowest." 

By the Virtues, he really _was_ mad. 

"Keep telling yourself that, Richard," Mellorin replied, examining her fingernails absently. 

"The Avatar will return." 

"Ah, yes. The same Avatar who abandoned you on the Isle of Fire... how many months ago? The same Avatar who fled Britannia and hasn't been seen since? The one who's using her powers to tear down cities and crush nations into submission?" 

He slowly fastened his cloak around his neck. "She would never-" 

"You saw." 

"I saw only what thou didst show me." 

"So afraid of the truth, are you?" Mellorin looked at him without smiling, the torch lighting one side of her face with gold. "Come, Richard. It's time." 

He took a shaky breath. "Thou dost not have to do this." 

Mellorin shook her head. "You're wrong. But even if I didn't have to, I'd want to." She reached back and drew the Blacksword. Its jewel, in which the daemon Arcadion abided, glowed faintly. "Come." 

Lord British came out of the room and preceded her down the corridor, not giving the dark Avatar the chance to lead the way. 

He wouldn't have followed. 

***

"Lord British!" 

People pressed forward, whispering hopefully as the monarch of Britannia entered the huge cavern. Somewhere in the crowd a knight and a squire gently pushed their way nearer the king. 

The growing noise died abruptly as two Killorn guards and Mellorin came in. 

People closest to the front started to back off. 

"Such devotion," Mellorin murmured. 

The knight and squire kept coming, their movements unnoticed in the shifting crowd. If they could catch Lord British's attention... then what? The knight scowled for a second. They couldn't do anything. 

"_Sentri._" 

He froze, then realised his king was looking straight at him. 

"_Spark._" 

The squire also stopped dead, then looked at his friend in bewilderment. 

"_Both of ye, forget trying to save me._" 

"_My Lord_," Sentri thought, willing himself to be heard. "_We must do something._" 

"_Watch over the people. Can I depend on ye_?" 

He inclined his head a fraction. "_We will try._" 

"_Do not let them lose hope. The Avatar _will_ return. Believe that._" 

"Kneel," Mellorin commanded. 

Lord British stared at her as though she was insane. "No." 

She gestured to the guards and they came forward, one standing on his left and one on his right. They both clapped a gloved hand on his shoulders and forced him to his knees. Mellorin stood in front of him with Arcadion. 

The cavern was deathly silent. Every eye was on the king and the Guardian's Avatar, every breath held in fearful expectation. But there was not one who actually _believed_ Lord British would die. 

The guards stood back. 

Lord British didn't look up at his executioner. He stared straight ahead, right through her. 

Mellorin slipped the point of her sword under his chin and lifted it, ostensibly to expose his neck. 

The king still didn't look at her. 

"No last words?" she asked softly, stepping away and bringing up the Shade Blade in both hands. "No glowing sermons on Virtue? No empty promises of returning avatars? She promised," Mellorin continued, her voice rising. "Elora promised to defend Britannia. And where is she?" 

Lord British drew his breath as though to speak, but his reply resounded like a fanfare through the minds of all present: "_In your heart, Britannia._" 

"We can do what she'd do," someone breathed. "We can save him." 

The crowd started to shift again, slowly. Many faces looked at Mellorin with the grim expressions of people ready to fight. 

"You had best put them out of that brilliant notion pretty soon, Richard," Mellorin said, so softly that only Lord British himself heard. At those words, he finally looked up at her. "Or you won't be the only one Arcadion feeds on today." 

Aloud, Lord British said, "Stop." 

"To let him defend himself at least," a gargoyle growled. 

Mellorin smiled down at the king, who now chose not to look away from her eyes. Voice still pitched low, she said, "I did. He just threw his shield away." 

"I would sooner die than see even a scratch on such a shield," was the noble reply. Mellorin had to bite her lip to keep from laughing. 

"Are you ready, then?" 

He lifted his head higher. 

Mellorin had to force herself not to tear her gaze from his. The compassion and hope in his blue eyes burned her. She felt like a damp torch, _designed_ to carry a flame but unable to; coated with the wrong type of liquid. But... he could _help_ her... if she let him... 

"_Your weakness is showing, Avatar_," the Guardian's Voice whispered in disapproval. 

...or she could kill him. Steal a measure of power until she had enough to break free of the Guardian's shackles. Then, unrestrained by his or British's virtues, she could light her _own_ fire. One that consumed all. 

A painful force gripped her mind. "_You are mine_!" the Guardian snarled. 

_Not for long_, Mellorin wanted to reply. She didn't, but he knew, and the pain increased. 

Below her, the Lord of Britannia watched her struggle. He saw her body shake as she fought to control her agony. 

"Let me help." 

"_Kill him_!" 

With a cry that was half pain, half despair, and all fury, Mellorin pulled the Blacksword back. Remotely, she heard herself say: "This sword will be thy death, Lord British." 

And she lunged. 


	14. Duel of Fates I

_To the readers:_ I'm alive, and sorry to keep you waiting so long! TBA _will_ be finished, but I've decided to submit it to part by part as I progress. Hopefully this (combined with reader comments ;)) will keep me going to the end. And now, without further ado… the first part of the last book. :)

--SoL

**The Black Ankh**

_by Shadow of Light Dragon, aka Laura Campbell_

**Book VII - Duel of Fates**

_Good and Evil,_

_Death and Life,_

_Dark and Brilliance,_

_Peace and Strife._

_A sword of black,_

_A blood red star,_

_Only one_

_Is Avatar._

Someone had unplugged the heavens.

Rain bucketted down on us and the surroundings of the Shrine of Justice. Everyone instinctively looked for shelter, except for the _mezzini_ (most of whom looked baffled) and the few archers who had neglected to wrap their bowstrings (who swore and tried to cover their weapons with already-sopping cloaks). It was very dark, but not enough to be night. To the north, where the ground fell away precipitously into the sea, raging waves broke against the cliffs and foam splashed high enough to kiss grassy ground.

There were a few tense moments for me and my companions as we waited for Mellorin and her army to appear, but they didn't.

"Shouldn't we find shelter?" Shamino shouted at last. He had his heavy cloak up over his head and rain hissed off it, surrounding him with a haze of spray.

"You won't melt," I replied over the noise.

"I'll _rust_," Dupre called from nearby, and others laughed.

Despite myself, I felt a smile coming on. Those who had laughed were Britannians.

We were home.

"We could head for the Deep Forest," Shamino suggested, nodding to the south.

"I doubt it'd be much drier than this," I disagreed. A thought suddenly came to me. I looked up, smiling at the threatening clouds... and the rain abruptly cut off. The clouds rolled back in all directions, leaving a wide circle of deep, beautiful blue sky directly above us through which the noon sun blazed.

"Welcome to Britannia."

* * *

We actually did end up heading for the somewhat dripping shelter of the Deep Forest. We had to decide where exactly we'd go first, and scrying from there would be safer than out in the open. Just because Mellorin hadn't come running as soon as we'd arrived was no guarantee she wouldn't turn up at all. 

I found myself having to concentrate on holding the storm back. It was too powerful to be ordinary, yet I could tell it was not magical in origin. It pushed against my mental barrier constantly, and the clouds around the circle of sky resembled a celestial whirlpool.

Draxinusom came to me while the mages among us, most of whom were in Cale's Chosen, continued to scry and the others waited around or had a bite to eat. I hadn't spoken to the gargoyle Lord since I'd felt Lord British die - hadn't really seen him, in fact. Any doubts that Draxinusom didn't know what had happened faded when I saw his drawn expression and the dullness in his glowing blue eyes.

He shook his wings and rubbed his bare arms. "To say it feels like Winter."

"I wouldn't know what time of year it is any more," I said, squeezing water from my cloak with a grimace. "What's on your mind?"

"To have brought only personal concerns, Avatar. To need to hunt?" I shook my head. "To be good." He heaved a deep breath, then. Frowning. "To think it is Richard."

The levity of my mood at being back in Britannia faded. I didn't want to think about this topic too much. It hurt. "We should have come back sooner. It's my fault."

"To not second-guess life. To think things could have been worse... somehow."

"We could all be dead?" I suggested with morbid humour.

He shrugged his wings and looked at the swirling clouds. "To feel something wrong in the air, Avatar."

"Not just the weather," I said softly, knowing what he meant. There was a wrongness. The mere _sensation_ of being back in Britannia felt... different. Tainted. Sick. "The land itself," I murmured, feeling it all through my being the more I concentrated on it. "Britannia is dying. It's hanging on, but just barely."

"To Resurrect him?"

I shook myself, frowning. "We have to find him first." I paused. "Was anyone scrying the Isle of the Avatar?"

Draxinusom nodded. "To believe so." He went off for a minute and returned with a Britannian in chain with a shortsword and thick green cloak. Shivering, the man saluted.

I blinked at him. "Aren't you the one who was with me during the battle against the goblins and daemons?"

"Yes, ma'am."

"You're a mage?" I asked, raising a brow at his military garb.

"I have some skills in the area, Avatar."

I shrugged to myself. Warrior mages were very rare, but not unheard of. It just took me by surprise. "Lord Draxinusom told me you're scrying the Isle of the Avatar."

He straightened, as though reporting to a commanding officer. "Yes, ma'am. There are strange things to see. Those two statues people call the Guardians - the ones that kneel on either side of the path like winged gargoyles - they are not stopping people from passing into the Shrine of the Codex."

"Did you scry inside the shrine?" I asked intently.

He nodded. "The only things that I really noticed were those two lenses that used to be in Britain's museum, Avatar. The ones the stories say thou used to send the Codex into the Void. Oh, and that black box."

"The Vortex Cube," I said. "You didn't see the Codex, did you? It looks like a golden book."

"No, I didn't."

I thought for a moment. "There's an entrance into some underground caves just west of the path leading to the Shrine of the Codex," I told him. "Can you look in there as well?"

"At once, Avatar."

"Thanks. And call me Elora."

He looked awestruck at that, as though I'd just offered to knight him. "Ferran," he said at last, smiling. He inclined his head to Draxinusom, "M'lord," and hurried off.

"What would the Mellorin or the Guardian want with the Codex?" I asked Draxinusom.

He stared at me with blazing eyes. "To remind you that my world, the Underworld, was destroyed when the Codex was removed."

"She can't have taken it from Britannia," I whispered.

Our gazes were locked until I tore mine away to look at the sky again. The circle of blue was surrounded on all sides by a raging storm.

* * *

"What should we do?" 

"Priority is finding Lord British and Resurrecting him," I said, staring down at the damp map stretched out on the ground. A group of us crouched around it in a ragged circle—my friends and I, those from the other planes that were deemed 'in charge' one way or another. "First problem there is I'm not sure where Mellorin will have put his body."

"Dost thou know where he was killed?" Felix asked.

I hesitated, exchanging a long look with Lord Draxinusom. The gargoyle said, quite softly, "To believe it was the Isle of the Avatar."

I pointed out the island on the map and Zaria said, "I took a look over there. That place has so many Atarkans crawling over it I'm surprised they have enough supplies to feed them all."

This time the lengthy glance was with my Companions. "The caves under the island," Iolo said.

"Didn't the Guardian have a throne built down there, by the Fellowship?" Dupre put in. "Sounds like the kind of place his army would rally."

"Virtues, thou dost not think they're building another Black Gate, dost thou?" Julia asked, sounding alarmed.

"Hrm." I shook my head quickly. "No. The Black Gate's power relied on the Astronomical Alignment. There won't be another one of those for another few centuries, I think." I glanced at the non-Britannians. "Sorry. There are a large number of caves and such under the mountains on the Isle of the Avatar. The Guardian's servants used them as a base little over a year ago."

"So it's possible they're making further use of them," Bishop said. "Fair enough, but why? This island has no strategic advantage that I can see."

"I think the advantage last time was that no one would think to look there," Dupre said. "The Fellowship—that's the name of the group that was serving the Guardian, was trying to keep their activities secret. As for now…" he shrugged and looked at me quizzically. "It's defensible, but why wouldst thou care about that when thou hast thy choice of cities and keeps to pick from?"

"Long and the short of it is we don't know," I said wryly. "But someone will have to sneak in there and find Richard. We can't bring him back without his body."

"Infiltration attempt, eh?" Dupre rubbed his chin.

"I don't know, Elora," Bishop said, frowning slightly. "The Guardian has ways of picking out traitors—"

"_I will go_."

We all stared at each other for a while before realizing where the words had come from. The representative of the tril'khai, Swift, regarded the map with unblinking green eyes from where she lounged in the wet grass.

"_If thou canst get me to this island of thine, and back again,_" her mind-voice continued calmly, "_I can discover this information for thee. The Atarkans don't know we're telepaths. They use us as beasts of burden and guard animals. They will not suspect._"

"Are there any tril'khai on the Isle of the Avatar?" I asked Zaria.

"Big cats like that one? I can't say I saw any."

I frowned.

"_I can still try_."

"It will be a great risk…"

"_I believe it will be a great risk to any who attempt to undertake it._" Swift blinked lazily. "_I will be careful. I will even pretend to be subservient, and purr like a house-cat when it seems appropriate._"

Several around the circle grinned.

"_Or… a thought, Avatar, but thou couldst send a group of us. Several tril'khai would of course draw attention, but a group would look less out of place than just one_."

"It would also increase the chances of learning something," Katrina pointed out. "I think I'm liking this, but how do we get them to the isle without it looking suspicious? They can't just all appear out of nowhere, can they?"

"And how do we get them _off_ the island?" Shamino asked.

Swift growled softly. A feeling of concern came from her mind. "_Perhaps it would be better to just risk one. It is sounding too dangerous to attempt more than that._"

"I don't think we can slip anything onto the isle unnoticed," Zaria remarked. "Everywhere is watched, and I'm sure any area thou wouldst think of teleporting to is under even closer scrutiny."

"Then what about a distraction?" Dupre pointed at the Shrine of Humility. "Elora, if thou canst teleport here with a decent group of us, we can sneak Swift here in with us. Invisible, maybe? Anyway, while we're keeping whoever's at the shrine busy, Swift can run off somewhere, wait for the invisibility to wear off, then sneak around pretending she was always there."

"Why can't that work for several trilk'khai?" asked Iolo with a smile.

"Might look suspicious," Bishop replied. "A sudden unexplained attack, easily beaten back, then there's suddenly an influx of felines? Even if I didn't know they were telepaths, I'd wonder."

"Mellorin knows they're telepaths," I said suddenly. "She knows because I know. No… I think one is the way to go, but it still worries me. If she's had anyone spy on us, she might know we have tril'khai with us."

"I could go with her," Jae'tar volunteered, and Swift's ears twitched towards her. "An attended tril'kha may look less out of place. Besides, I am Atarkan, same as the cat. My mother Altara told me much of the inner workings of the High Council. Last but not least, if thou hast some way for Swift to escape the island, but this way requires opposable thumbs, perhaps I could be of use." The desert nomad suddenly gave Swift an irritated look. "I also promise," she added testily, "not to go off on any foolish acts of vengeance."

"Zaria," I said, "please take another look at the Shrine of Humility. Let us know how many Atarkans are hanging around. Dupre, go with her, then organize a large enough group that we'll be able to hold our own when we drop in." I paused, then looked at Bishop and Felix. "If you don't mind, see if some of the drakelings mind helping out? They're interesting enough to look at that they might give our enemies reason to hesitate."

Bishop actually grinned in reply. "If it's 'something interesting to look at' thou'rt after, Elora, I'm sure the drakelings can rise to the challenge."

* * *

"Take this." I gave Jae'tar a small red orb. "Use this once you're ready to leave, or if you're in trouble. You don't need any magical aptitude to make it work, so don't worry. It'll take you to the Isle of Fire… Zaria's mages had a look and it's empty from what they can see, so you and Swift can take shelter in the keep until we pick you up. We'll have someone keep an eye on the location every hour so we'll know when you arrive." 

The nomad nodded and pocketed the token. She'd shed her desert robe and now wore armour similar to what Atarkan soldiers wore, which would serve for now. Someone clever had managed to fashion a serviceable collar and leash from some leather cords, which Swift was wearing. Not only would they signify some level of ownership to Jea'tar, but they wouldn't have to worry as much about being separated while running invisible.

According to Zaria, there were twenty foes guarding the Shrine of Humility. Dupre had organised a party of thirty to counter that, ten of which were drakelings. Dupre, Bishop and myself would be accompanying them. Lord Draxinusom would retain ultimate command of the remaining forces until we returned.

"Take out as many of them as we can," Dupre was advising the group. "We want to make it look like we're there for a reason. If we kill them all, we'll venture a little further as though we're testing the defences. Do _not_ run on ahead or stray too far! I don't want anyone left behind. Got that?"

There was a chorus of assent.

"Guess that meaneth we're ready." Dupre drew his sword and nodded casually in my direction. "Avatar?"

I unsheathed my own blade. The Lifestealer, as usual, hung strapped across my back. "Alright everyone. Stay close." After willing Jae'tar and Swift invisible, I touched the _aeth'raesh'al_.

* * *

The Shrine of Humility came into sharp focus, and our ears were immediately assaulted by the cries of the enemy. Before I'd even chosen my first target, two soldiers burst into chill, silvery flames and went down screaming. As the drakelings puffed bursts of coldfire at hastily raised shields, the rest of us charged those who were either making a break for it or attempting to claim a kill of their own.

"_We're out_!"

Swift's thought broke effortlessly through the actual noises of the fight. I nodded mentally, keeping an eye on the carnage around me. There hadn't actually been an opportunity or need for me to step in to the fight. Everyone seemed to be doing fine without me, and the drakelings were wreaking merry havoc—

--but then I felt it.

_Her_.

…me.

Even as I was reaching for the _aeth'raesh'al_ to teleport us out of there, I could see Mellorin and a group of reinforcements appearing right in our midst. It registered then that if we teleported, we'd be taking them with us. And there were more of them…

And they were _here_.

Shouts rose from both sides, but my side faltered at the sight of the overwhelming odds. She must have known, I thought. She must have been ready, to have this many people armed and ready and prepared…

Mellorin smiled down at me from where she lounged against the Shrine's altar. "Surrender or die, Elora? Or let's look at your other options. Fight and die. Teleport _all_ of us and die somewhere else. Save yourself? Believe me when I say all your friends here will pay the price." Her green eyes roved over my small invasion force, resting on Dupre for a moment before returning to me. "Oh, or you can cast Mass Death, killing everyone here. Since that includes me, it will also include you. Have I forgotten anything?"

I forced my voice to remain calm. "I'm only dead if _I_ kill you, Mellorin. How would you like to become a small pile of ashes?"

Her smile froze. "You wouldn't d—"

A respectable gout of silvery flames burst at the ground near Mellorin's boots. She dove aside, cursing, and as though it had been a signal, my party took the moment of surprise to jump back to the offensive. Fire seemed to pour from the sky as I fought my way through the struggling bodies, simply trying to kill as many Atarkans as I could. I had no destination. There was nowhere to go, and my stomach churned at the thought it would be over all too soon. That we were all about to die.

A nagging voice screamed inside my head, telling me I should leave the others to their fates. Save myself! They were expendable. It was only if _I_ was taken that all was lost. That was the logic of it, cold and sharp and inarguable…

And impossible. I couldn't…

"Arcadion," a voice said directly behind me. "Death."

I turned, very slowly.

"It's been a long time coming… Master."

There was a gut-wrenching pain and a scream I couldn't seem to stop… followed shortly by the blindness of the newly undead.

-TBC-  



	15. Duel of Fates II

**The Black Ankh  
**_Duel of Fates, Cont'd__  
by Laura Campbell, aka Shadow of Light Dragon _

The next thing I remembered was an empty, windowless cell. Manacles attached to the roof bound my wrists, stretching my arms in opposite directions. The _aeth'raesh'al_ was still encircling one of them…

Relief, and hope, sparked within me. I didn't know why Mellorin hadn't taken the bracer, but so long as she hadn't—

The door opened, admitting my double. She closed it behind herself and leaned back against it, appraising me by the light of the In Lor spell hovering above her. The angle of the lighting hollowed her face. "I see you've regained enough strength to make yourself look decent," she said. "The reality is quite nauseating, you know."

I arched a brow at her.

She returned the facial expression. "Nothing to say?"

"What do you want to hear? 'You win'?"

"I was expecting you to ask why I haven't destroyed you."

"It was preying on my mind, but I figured if you wanted to tell me you would, and if you didn't want me to know there'd be little point to my asking, except to give you the undesirable pleasure of saying, 'What? Tell you all my plans?' and laughing in my face."

She pushed away from the door and circled me slowly. In the blackrock hilt poking above her right shoulder, Arcadion's crystalline prison glowed.

"Why haven't you destroyed me?" I asked, finally.

"_He_ wants you broken."

"What do I matter if he has you? Wasn't that the idea?"

Her lip curled into what could have been a sneer, but it lasted only for a fraction of a second. A shadow of fear passed across her face and she looked down, as though examining the path she took around me, and folded her arms. "You know him. He wants what he can't have."

"Yeah. I know him." I pulled lightly at the chains and sighed. "So what are you going to do? Lead a parade of Britannians through the door and kill each of them in front of me until I beg you to stop? Ultimately it won't mat—"

"Richard."

I stopped, and felt the iron cuffs dig into my wrists. "What?"

"If you beg him nicely enough, he will allow Lord British's Resurrection. Britannia will not die."

I gritted my teeth.

"You have a week before your decision will no longer matter."

"Why did you do it? Why did you kill him?" My hands clenched. "Virtues, you may be a twisted version of me, but that means that, deep down, there is still a part of _me_ in you. I can't believe you felt nothing when you butchered him."

Mellorin pursed her lips, but didn't meet my gaze. "A certain feeling of satisfaction, perhaps?"

"And the Guardian? You're his loyal dog?"

She smiled fleetingly, humourlessly, and turned for the door. "Think on what I've said, Elora. I'll be back later."

"If you destroy me," I said, "you belong to him forever."

Her hand paused on the latch. "How is that any different from belonging to _you_? Being _your_ dog?"

"Having been in both situations, I'm sure you know the answer to that."

Mellorin turned back to me. "You're right. I don't want to belong to him. But I don't want to be under your thumb either." She took a breath. "I have a way out. A shot at freedom." She twitched then, and her face clenched like a fist. "Let go," she muttered. "_Let go!_ Or I _swear_ I'll—" Her hands raised to her temples as she gasped. "I'll… release… her… and—" She took one step towards me and dropped to her knees, shaking violently.

The thought arose that even if she wanted to free me she wouldn't be able to. If the Guardian could bring her down so easily… But that said, he couldn't force her to do what he wanted through pain. Pain incapacitated.

I stared at the writhing form on the floor. This was the person who'd killed Richard and countless others, yet it was almost impossible not to feel pity. I knew what it felt like to have my head in the Guardian's vice.

Then one of her hands gripped the Blacksword's hilt and ripped it from its scabbard. Her face lifted and her eyes were wild when they fixed on me. The blade scraped across the stones as she stood, and rasped, "I told you—" the sword lifted, clenched in both white-knuckled hands, "—to let me—" it pulled back in preparation of a swing. I tensed, not knowing where it would land, "—_go_!"

The Blacksword sheared through the chain binding my right arm then kept going until it and Mellorin hit the wall of the cell. She screamed—at the impact, at the Guardian's reaction, I didn't know. The agonised sound bounced endlessly against the stones and in my own ears. It was the only thing that stopped me from bringing my right hand to my left and escaping. I couldn't help staring in horrified pity, or help feeling my insides twist at the sight of my own pain. I had to do something.

"Arcadion," I whispered, reaching my free hand towards the abandoned Blacksword. The sword glowed, and I had the faint impression that the daemon was thinking about its options… but then I could feel the hilt taking form against my palm. The weapon had barely made the transition from floor to hand before I swung it against the chain holding my left hand, severing it. Without a pause for thought, I brought the hilt across Mellorin's head and she crumpled into silence. But my ears still rang with her cries. Hesitantly, I knelt down and tried to remove the bracer she wore, but Kra'lysie had been right. I couldn't open it.

"All right, you," I said to the Blacksword, trying to keep in mind that the daemon blade had been stuck through my chest (not to mention Richard's) not so long ago. "Where are we?"

"I don't know," Arcadion replied. "Not Britannia. Mellorin took you elsewhere so you couldn't communicate with anyone."

"Did she bring anyone else with her?" I had an insane urge to shake the sword when it didn't reply at once. "Answer me!"

"What are you going to do, _Master_? Strangle me?" The voice was a sneer of contempt. "I don't see why you're angry at _me_, anyway. Is it my fault Mellorin used me to kill your precious king? Or those people on the Isle of Fire?" Arcadion's voice became a malicious whisper. "Or Mariah? Or Jaana?"

"_No_." My hands clenched around the hilt as though I _were _trying to throttle it, and I stared into the glowing jewel. "You're lying…"

"Am I indeed?"

I turned on Mellorin's prostrate form, flames burning in my mind. The pity I'd felt for her before was forgotten, replaced by a need for blood like nothing the Lifestealer sword had inspired in me.

"Kill her and you die," Arcadion reminded me sharply, swiftly. "But you can break free. She said she knew a way to break free, remember? I can tell you how. You can do the same. You can _end_ this, Elora, without her compliance, then safely pursue vengeance if you so desire."

As attractive as the offer was, the daemon's voice was too eager. "I should bring her back," I muttered, staring at Mellorin. The fire retreated, under control again, but it smouldered still. "This will be much easier if she's our prisoner. And I have to find Dupre, Bishop and the others…"

"They are still on Britannia," Arcadion said. This time his voice was sullen, but it still carried an undertone of anticipation that made me feel uneasy.

"What aren't you telling me, Arcadion?" I narrowed my eyes at the ether gem. "Mellorin may have a stronger claim over you than I, but you are _still_ bound to me in some way, and I demand a true answer from you!"

The daemon hissed. "When you return to Britannia, the call of the Undead will claim you. You will be unable to resist it, Avatar. You will go to Stonegate and bring about Armageddon. And with the _aeth'raesh'al_ upon your arm, Britannia will only be the start of it."

I tried to ignore the chill. "I know about this 'Call', Arcadion, but I've never felt it. Why should I succumb to it now?"

"You would have when you returned to Britannia, but for the stolen life-force in your veins. That is gone now—"

"Thanks to you!"

"—and I expect you will heed the call as soon as you go back."

"If I'm undead." I glanced at Mellorin as she groaned. Her body was twitching, as though someone was trying to kick her awake…

_Damn that red bastard._

"Where is my sword?"

"Excuse me?" Arcadion sounded offended.

"The Lifestealer!"

"Back in Britannia… Master." The daemon's voice took on a smug, drawling note. "What now? Will you wait until she awakens? A word from her and I will be in her fist, and you looking down my blade… if not impaled upon it again. Will you try to speak reason to her while the Guardian rends what's left of her sanity?"

"It seems," I replied softly, "that the only other choice you present is to return to Britannia and go to Stonegate, whether I like it or not, and end the world."

"The world is ending anyway, isn't it?"

"I plan to stop that. Where's Lord British's body? And don't just say 'Britannia', Arcadion. Where _exactly_ is Richard's body?"

"In the Shrine of Spirituality."

_Of course… who would think to scry there? _Could_ you, when it's not a part of the land mass that is Britannia? With the moongates out of order, only she or I can get there. And what reason would I have to pay a visit to the Shrine of Spirituality with all this going on?_

"She wanted to drop him into another plane," Arcadion went on, "but apparently he must be kept in contact with Britannia if the world is to… continue. The Guardian doesn't want Britannia to perish. Until he's ready, that is."

"Then why kill him at all?"

"To lure you back. He can be very impatient."

Mellorin groaned again. One of her hands clawed at the stone floor as she folded in upon herself.

"And the Crown of the Liche King is like the Horn of Praecor Loth," Arcadion said. "An item of legendary power that the Guardian covets, but can only attain through the efforts of others. Mellorin cannot serve him in this, but you can. Another reason why your bracer wasn't removed."

"Who else serves him?" I asked suddenly. "Who is the traitor?"

"What?" Arcadion replied.

"Who betrayed what we were doing to Mellorin? I know there's a spy in my army, Arcadion. Tell me who it is."

The daemon's voice conveyed a shrug. "It is a daemon. To tell you the truth, Avatar, I'm surprised that _you_, with your undead abilities, haven't figured it out for yourself."

"I haven't been using my undead abilities… much…" I muttered. Silence returned to the cell for a minute. "Can you protect me, if I go back to Britannia? Stop me from… you know… forgetting who I am?"

"Do you remember," Arcadion said, thoughtfully, "that you promised to release me once?"

"I remember."

There was another silence, in which I had the impression that Arcadion was envisioning a myriad of potential futures. At length, a sigh came from the Blacksword. "I will endeavour to remind you that you are the… Paragon of Virtue. However… I will not be able to help you if Mellorin recalls me."

I reached for the _aeth'raesh'al_, and hesitated. I went and crouched beside the twitching body of Mellorin and brought my mouth close to her ear. "I don't know if you can hear me," I said, "but leave Arcadion with me. Please."

"You think she will listen?" Arcadion asked, darkly amused.

"I don't know."

Extending the _aeth'raesh'al's_ field over Mellorin as well as myself, I took us to Britannia. To the Shrine of Justice.

* * *

Shamino and Iolo were there when we appeared, and both men viewed the arrival with mixed expressions of relief, horror and caution. 

"That's Mellorin," I said without preamble, pointing the Blacksword at my unconscious double as I rose from my crouch. "If it was me, she'd look like…" I shook my head. "I don't know. A decomposing corpse. Gag her. Tie her up or something. Don't let her have the ability to use her bracer. Make sure she's watched so she can't cast any—" I stooped again, and pulled the reagent pouch from Mellorin's belt, "—spells. Oh, and if she starts screaming or anything like that, use Sleep magic."

"She—" Iolo began.

"Richard's body is at the Shrine of Spirituality," I went on quickly. I could feel something in my head clamouring for attention. Something I hadn't felt previously. "And there's a daemon spy in the army. Get the mages to sniff it out."

"Where—"

Mellorin stirred again.

"I'll handle things," Shamino said. "Kra'lysie could handle the daemon problem, if she can be bothered to listen to me." He turned and ran for the forest.

I opened my mouth again, but Iolo said, "Dupre! Where's Dupre? Elora, what _happened_? Zaria's mages said that all of ye were captured!"

The call was becoming more insistent. I tried to drown it out by talking louder. "I don't know! I think he and the others, whoever survived, are on the Isle of the Avatar. I was taken elsewhere. _Listen_, Iolo." I shoved the reagent pouch into the bard's hand. "I don't have much time, even to explain. I have to get to Stonegate, and it'll be too dangerous for you guys to come with me. I can't do anything else before I handle this. The world will apparently end in a week unless Richard is Resurrected."

"Or sooner, if the Stonegate thing doesn't go as you intend," Arcadion muttered.

"Thou'rt taking _that_ with thee?" Iolo said, glaring at the Shade Blade.

"Yes. While Mellorin's out of action, it might be a good idea for you guys to move. Retake Britain or Empath Abbey, whatever's closer." I glanced past Iolo, just in time to see Shamino reach the edge of the trees and vanish beneath them. "No reinforcements will be coming to stop you, so long as we have our prisoner here."

Then I looked east. I had to go that way…

"Thou canst really not just take her bracer?" Iolo asked, hopefully. "All this, or most of it, could be _over_ if thou couldst."

"I can't." I glanced back to him briefly, with glowing eyes. "But you can try to talk her into taking it off." I felt a smile curve my lips. "I suggest during one of the screaming sessions, when it sounds like the Guardian's attempting to run her brain through a mincer." At his shocked expression I turned east again, and began to walk.

After a few minutes, Arcadion asked dryly, "So, Miss Paragon of Virtue… what is the Mantra of Compassion?"

"Shut up, Arcadion."

-TBC-


	16. Duel of Fates III

**The Black Ankh  
**_Duel of Fates, Cont'd  
by Laura Campbell, aka Shadow of Light Dragon_

The sun was setting, but I saw it only as a sullen haze through the heavy clouds back to the west. Eastwards, above the swamps and scattered mountains, the sky was dark with yet more storm-clouds. I had not been walking the entire way. Judicious usage of the Blink spell was speeding my progress. If I hurried, I could be into Stonegate and out with the crown before midnight. Then I could pick up Lord British…

Virtues, how it pained me to think his Resurrection was coming _second_. But this undead call was pulling me like a magnet, like the moons pulled the waters. I had feared that this would affect my mind somewhat, in that I'd start to _think_ more like a liche, but it wasn't happening. Yet, anyway. I could feel the call trying to drown my thoughts, make itself the only thing in my mind, but that I could resist.

I had not taken Mellorin's shoulder scabbard, which forced me to hand-carry Arcadion as I went. I tended towards propping the blade against one shoulder while my hands cradled the hilt around waist-height. As time went on, it surprised me when I realised that I'd actually missed the daemon's sometimes caustic conversation.

"Why are you wasting your power on that storm back there?" Arcadion had asked once, referring to the unnatural rain above the army I'd left behind in the Deep Forest.

"To keep my mind anchored," I'd replied. "To remind me of my friends and my purpose. Now, tell me how Mellorin plans to break free of her _aeth'raesh'al_."

Her plan had been along the lines that Kra'lysie had speculated on long ago; an attempt to surpass the power contained within the bracer. An undead could theoretically achieve this, given time. A living being, on the other hand, was limited in their capacity to store mana. Mellorin had hoped to get around this by using none other than the Black Sword.

"Within the Ether Gem," Arcadion said, "I can contain and store energy, as you know. As I am used to slay powerful entities, I can absorb a measure of their essence and filter that back to my Master on request. Mellorin doesn't know how much energy she needs, nor do I, but she's been pinpointing those she deems powerful and using me to kill them."

"Richard?" I asked.

"He was certainly one of them. I cannot describe what it felt like to feed off—"

"Then don't," I interrupted sharply. "I suppose she's been targeting all my friends. You mentioned Mariah and Jaana as well."

"This is correct, but she selected them for their relationship to her… I mean you… as much as for what power they might grant her. She used them to defile two of the Shrines. That's the fate in store for all your Companions, Master."

"She might find it hard if she's tied up and in the keeping of those Companions," I said.

"I also stole quite a measure of power from yourself."

"Really?" I quirked a brow at the Shade Blade. "Acradion, restore my powers."

The daemon had no choice. But when he answered my command, the influx of energy almost staggered me. I had to halt until the world stopped swimming and until my thoughts stilled, for my head was briefly filled with voices and memories not my own. A hundred faces played before me in a fraction of a second. A hundred _lives_.

A thousand deaths.

I shuddered, taking a moment to regain my balance. Had I not been undead, I had the nasty feeling that such an ether surge could have blown my mind out like a candle in high wind. Could Mellorin have even used it?

"You realise you've effectively ruined what she's been working towards with that little stunt," the daemon remarked.

I moved forwards again. "You should tell her, when she recalls you. She might give up if she hears she has to start all over again."

"More likely she'll kill twice as many just to spite you, Master. She has all of your temper and none of your restraint. She likes killing things, too."

I shrugged. "Kra'lysie said there was no guarantee the energy thing would work. It's never been tried." Nevertheless, I made a surreptitious attempt to remove my bracer… which failed.

"Kra'lysie? Ah, your pet dragon."

A troubling thought occurred to me. "_She's_ not the daemon, is..?" No. She'd been the first one I'd seen through my undead eyes, and her appearance hadn't been remotely daemonic. She'd looked like a rainbow.

"No," Arcadion said when I didn't finish my sentence. "She's not a daemon." Then he too was silent.

I had crested a hill. Spread out below me, half-sunk in the marshy ground, were the blackened ruins of what had once been the stronghold of the Shadowlords. Surrounding it, wandering between the weathered remains, was a mass. An army of the undead and the unliving.

Ranks of skeletons, some unadorned, some bearing the remnants of rusted armour and weapons. Ghosts, which passed through the broken walls as though they weren't there at all. Liches, some gathered together in secretive groups, others maintaining a lofty separation from the rest. And there were daemons who looked on as though this were something to see. Here and there I also saw mages; living mages, robed, cowled and silent. Dark mages, I supposed… people whose only difference from a liche was a ritual, as yet unperformed.

Heads and skulls turned in my direction and an expectant hush fell.

The call tugged me onward, down into the ruins. Gripping the Black Sword tightly, I began my descent.

Behind me, the last of the sun's light faded from the sky.

* * *

They crowded around me. Not so close that I couldn't move, but near enough that I was almost rigid with tension. Glowing eyes and empty sockets watched my progress with avidity. The silence was not complete… there were sounds of movement, naturally. Bone, rusted chain, rotted robe, the noises of the swamp… but whispers, too. Sometimes even what sounded like amused chuckling. 

I found myself wishing my friends were with me. Dupre would make some remark or other, Shamino would comment on it, Iolo would roll his eyes…

My feet took me into the ruin, where it looked like the undead had been hard at work. A deep pit had been dug here, by skeletal hands. There was no clear way to climb down, so I simply jumped and used magic to slow my fall. Although the bottom of the pit was big enough for maybe ten people to comfortably stand, no one followed me down. When my feet touched the bottom I could hear jostling overhead as undead strove to get a better view. Of what though? I didn't even know yet.

"So how do you propose to get in?" Arcadion murmured.

I crouched down on the muddy stone. It was black down here, but I didn't need light to see by anymore.

"For a while," I said quietly, scanning the rock for any symbols or clues as to where the entrance was, "I thought the Lifestealer was the key to getting down here. An undead with life, you see. But the answer to that… riddle? 'One with life still at their chest' or something…" I raised one hand to touch the Ankh through my shirt. "I already fulfil that in a much simpler way."

"Maybe not as simply as you think," the daemon replied, but I didn't ask him what he meant. I'd found the gateway.

There was a large rectangle etched into the stone, large enough to enclose me should I choose to lie down within its boundaries. In the very middle was scored a five-pointed star. The pentagram was as wide as my splayed hand, and the water-filled edges shone faintly.

Slowly, unsure if this was how it worked, I lowered my hand from Ankh to pentagram and pressed my palm against the symbol. At once, red light bloomed in the darkness. It seeped from under my hand, and when I removed it I saw it was emanating from the star. A collective sigh came from above me as I stood and backed away, stepping outside the rectangle.

As I did so, the Gate of Stone, and the red light, vanished. In its place was a yawning black passage leading deeper into the earth.

"Well, well…" Arcadion murmured appreciably.

My shoulder blades itching slightly at the thought of all those gazes fixed eagerly on my back, I entered Stonegate.

* * *

The tunnel was high enough that I could walk without bending over, but narrow. I expected there to be even less light down here than above, but there was a red glow far down the passage. Since there was no way to go but forwards or back, I continued towards it. 

"What do you know about the Crown of the Liche King that you haven't already told me?" I asked Arcadion.

"Hmm? Oh, I'm sorry. I was just remembering Stonegate of old. Balinor would have been very put out to see the place so messy… tch…"

"Arcadion!"

The daemon sighed. "Patience, like Cleanliness, is not exactly a Virtue. Or some of your friends would bathe more often… What do you want to hear, Master? The crown, if you put it on, will grant you the ability to manipulate life with magic—something undead normally can't do. Yes, you can do all those useless little healing spells you've missed so much and make people happy."

I rolled my eyes in the darkness.

"I saw that."

"What's the catch, though? Can't any of those other undead just take it off me? Because I'm sure as hell not casting Armageddon."

"Ah, well, there are several catches. Once you wear it, for example, they have no need to take it off you. You see, _you_ are not the only undead who will be bestowed with the crown's powers. It'll affect any undead or unliving nearby, splashing out like ripples in water."

"Wonderful." I reached a small opening into a chamber and squeezed through it. "Why don't I just destroy it, then?"

"If lava didn't do the job, Master, what could?"

The chamber was rock. The domed roof and flat floor were slightly bumpy, but unimpressive. In the middle of the floor, lacking even the customary velvet cushion, was a crown. It was black with the texture of stone, but wasn't blackrock. It didn't have the little 'points' that one normally associated with crowns, but 'blocks' instead, like battlements. In one side of the crown was traced the five-pointed star, from which the red light issued. It was bright enough to illuminate the whole of the small room.

I picked it up, and decided it was heavy enough to warrant looking like stone. A closer inspection revealed two incantations etched on the inside of the crown…

"This is the incantation for Armageddon," I said, frowning. "But I don't know the other one."

A voice that wasn't Arcadion's said: "Popular belief is that it's a… Mass Resurrection spell. Of a sort."

I tightened my hold on the crown and looked around. "Who said that?"

A shining blue ghost appeared with such suddenness that I jumped back and almost took a swipe at it with Arcadion.

"Watch it with that thing! We're not exactly on the best of terms right now."

I stared. "_Richard_?"

The Lord of Britannia's ghost smiled at me. "Greetings, Elora. Is it time yet?"

"Time..?" I said blankly.

"For my Resurrection."

"Almost. I… know where your body is."

"Thanks to me," Arcadion muttered.

"Aye, well at least thou'rt good for something besides killing people," Richard said to the sword.

"Richard, how did you _get_ here?" I asked, still hardly believing what I was seeing. "And how did you know what you just told me?"

"Ah, well, as to the latter, I've had plenty of time to listen to what's going on around these parts." The king grimaced slightly. "It's not entirely pleasant. But thou wouldst be amazed at how many faces thou might recognise, given the time. I had a nice talk to Horance of Skara Brae, for instance. His company was much more tolerable than most."

"And as to the former?" I prompted.

"I had help," Richard said. He looked to his left. "Thou dost not have to hide."

"I was just choosing my moment," another voice, a woman's, said tartly. "Thou'rt not meant to just pop in and out like an amateur, Richard. A ghost's entrance must be properly dramatic." There was an ethereal sigh, and her ghost wavered into view. "Never mind. I was hoping to make a good first impression on the Avatar, but…"

Richard grinned. "Elora, may I present a very old friend of mine—"

"Old!" the woman's ghost protested.

"Er…" Richard paused. "Actually, I'm quite sure thou'rt older than I am."

"Hmph. Well it's rude to draw attention to a lady's age, thou knowest." The woman bowed to me. "I am called Arthalan. And thou needest not worry about my present state, Avatar. I've been a ghost for a very long time now."

"Nice to meet you," I said. "Any friend of Richard's is a friend of mine."

"Arthalan knew thou wouldst come here sooner or later, Elora," Richard said. His semi-transparent face became serious. "Britannia doth not have much time."

My joy at seeing Richard again faded. "I know. Richard… I'm sorry—"

He interrupted briskly. "Thou hast nothing to apologise for, Elora. We both expected she would kill me."

"I had hoped to return soon enough to prevent it." I made a vague gesture with the crown. "At least I can Resurrect you now."

"Do not be so hasty to wear that thing," Richard warned.

"Arcadion told me that if I wear it, its powers will not be limited to me."

"Any undead or daemons in the area," Arthalan verified. "Horance told us all about it. For so long as thou wearest it, any undead or daemon who gets close enough to thee will be able to use its powers."

"So I just put it on where it's safe, then take it off again," I said. "Where's the problem?"

"Elora," Richard said, looking at me strangely. "Surely thou hast healers capable of Resurrecting me back wherever thou left our friends. Thou dost not have to do this thyself. Certainly not if the risk is something gaining the ability to cast Armageddon on Britannia."

I looked down and sighed. "All right. I'll just keep this somewhere safe, I guess. Do you know if it can be destroyed?"

The two ghosts exchanged a glance and shrugged.

"Hadst thou a choice," Arthalan said, "leaving it sealed down here would have been the best option. But this is not the place for lengthy discussions. Those above will descend after thee once they tire of waiting."

"Where art thou encamped?" Lord British asked me.

"In the Deep Forest, south of the Shrine of Justice," I said. "Oh! And I captured Mellorin. Maybe things will go more our way with—"

"Avatar?" Arcadion began. Then he glowed violet and vanished.

"I better get back," I said grimly. "Find me as soon as you can and we'll get you fixed up." I then looked at Arthalan's ghost and hesitated. She smiled at me cheerfully. "And you… uh… try to keep him out of trouble, please."

Lord British made a face at me as Arthalan sniggered. "Thanks. We'll see thee soon."

I grinned. "I'm glad thou'rt still with us, Richard." Then I touched the _aeth'raesh'al_…

…and was back at the Shrine of Justice.

Shamino was there, slumped near the pedestal. I called out to him when I saw him and he looked up, grief twisting his face in the night's darkness.

"What's wrong?" I asked, crouching down. He was cradling something in his arms and I tried to see… "Shamino?"

He held it out.

It was Iolo's crossbow.


	17. Duel of Fates IV

**The Black Ankh  
**_Duel of Fates, Cont'd  
by Laura Campbell, aka Shadow of Light Dragon_

"What happened?" The world came crashing around me again, destroying any levity I'd felt at seeing Lord British's ghost. "Did you see? Shamino, _talk to me._"

"I don't _know_," the ranger shouted, jumping to his feet. "I don't know," he repeated, more quietly. "I sent someone up here with rope and a wooden pole to secure Mellorin's arms while I sorted out the spy business, and it was only when I realised no one had come back that…" He looked like he was resisting the urge to swear, and swear loudly. "Virtues, I was so _stupid_, Elora! Why didn't I ask Julia or Katrina? Anyone I knew I could trust!"

"Don't worry about that now. What'd you see when you got up here? Who'd you send?"

He shook his head angrily. "I don't know who I sent. One of the outworlders. He just happened to be the first person I passed on the way in—I didn't want to leave Iolo alone out here with Mellorin any longer than necessary. And when _I _got up here…" Again he shook his head, pacing a few steps in frustration. "All three of them were gone. There was just the crossbow. And this."

He held out a broken bolt this time, bearing Iolo's familiar fletchings. There was blood on the steel head.

"Iolo and Dupre gone in the same evening," Shamino whispered. "Not to mention those others on the Isle of Fire…"

"No." I looked away from the bloody bolt and stared hard at the circle of sky above. It was black now, and filled with stars. The clouds still roiled around the edges but only those near the opening were visible, limned in silver moonslight.

"Is she just going to pick us off one by one?" Shamino asked. His voice was one of desolation, and it filled me with sudden rage. What right did Mellorin have to do this to my friends? Why had I been so foolish as to endanger everyone by bringing her here in the first place? I should have just left her to the Guardian!

I clenched my empty right hand, and suddenly remembered Arcadion. Arcadion being summoned. Arcadion saying that Mellorin was using him to slay my friends at the Shrines of Virtue…

I turned to Shamino quickly. "Do you have a sword?"

He blinked at my urgent demand. "No, just my hammer—"

"Give it to me. Quick!" When he'd hurriedly handed over the Juggernaut Hammer, I said, "I'm going to get Iolo back. I saved him from those Virtues-damned undead cats back on Atarka, and not so he could be slaughtered here in Britannia." I tossed him the Crown of the Liche King. "Keep this safe. Do _not_ let it out of your sight. I'd keep it on me, but I don't want to chance Mellorin getting it."

"Dost thou not want me to come with thee?" Shamino asked, frowning.

"Normally I'd have no trouble with that," I said. "But… I'm sorry, Shamino… I just don't want to risk losing all _three_ of my dearest friends in one day." I looked away. "I better go. I don't know how long I have, and Mellorin could be torturing Iolo as we speak…"

He nodded once. "Go. And… Virtue be with thee."

"Get back to the others. Staying up here alone is a good way to get jumped." Giving him a small, grim smile, I used the _aeth'raesh'al_ to teleport myself to what would hopefully be the Shrine of Compassion…

…it was. And the night sky was clear. The air was dead calm. Mellorin's voice rang out from the standing stones nearby.

"Clever. How did you know I'd be here? I thought I'd masked my teleportation."

I gripped the Juggernaut Hammer in both hands. Iolo had been tied against the pedestal with rope. He was sitting on the ground with his back to the stone, as it was neither high enough for him to be standing, nor wide enough for him to be lying atop it. From the blood on his shirt, it looked like Mellorin had only just gotten started. Nevertheless, his head was hanging and I couldn't tell if he was conscious, though I was sure he was alive.

A quick glance around didn't reveal anyone else. I'd expected a daemon to be here too… Maybe it was hiding.

"I put the pieces together," I told Mellorin. "Now why don't you let him go?"

She grinned at me. "Come on, Elora. Why don't I just kill him, then leave you the body? You can Resurrect him later. You _do_ have the Crown of the Liche King by now, don't you?"

"I do."

"You're not wearing it, though."

"Crowns aren't really my thing. You should know that."

She tapped one finger against Arcadion's hilt while I maintained a neutral expression. "You left it back with your army, didn't you."

"I see the Guardian didn't want to mess with my intelligence when he created you."

"That all depends on who you gave it to."

I snorted. "And I'm supposed to tell you so you can hunt them down?"

She was silent for a moment, regarding me with a look I knew only too well. When faced with it, most of my friends would ask if I was trying to read their minds. "No matter, I suppose," she said at length. "I'll find out sooner or later… I _am_ hunting all your friends down anyway, and I suspect they're the only ones you trust enough to hand something that valuable too." She reached down with one hand and tousled Iolo's grey hair. "I just have to go through them all one by one."

There was a crude bandage around her right wrist, I noted. And it was soaked with blood. "So you have enough power at the end of it to free yourself?" I asked. "It won't work. Arcadion isn't storing all that energy anymore."

Mellorin's fingers curled in Iolo's hair and slammed the bard's head back against the pedestal. "_What_?"

I winced, and was suddenly grateful Iolo was unconscious. I just hoped he'd be able to wake up again after that.

"Elora commanded that I restore her powers, Master," I heard Arcadion say. "She took all that you had been storing."

Mellorin looked skywards and sighed deeply, the fingers of her right hand still locked in Iolo's hair.

I didn't hesitate.

The Juggernaut Hammer took her full in the stomach and threw her clear out of the Shrine's circle of stones.

I ran up to the pedestal, catching the enchanted weapon in its return flight on the way, and stopped there. Mellorin was doubled on the ground, trying to get her breath back. Should I try to subdue her again and drag her back to my army? No… I didn't want to risk it a second time. Besides, doing so would get her that much closer to the Crown of the Liche King, which I didn't want.

Whether because she was genuinely incapacitated, or disinclined to act as though she felt I was a serious threat, Mellorin didn't bother to regain her feet. She sank into a sitting position on the grass, one knee close to her chest. And just watched me.

Keeping an eye on her, I pulled out a boot dagger and sliced the ropes binding Iolo before gently slapping his cheeks and trying to rouse him. Unsuccessful, I checked his wounds and located the most serious: a puncture right through the right wrist. Bright red blood flowed freely from the injury. It stained the shrine's pristine altar. No wonder Iolo was unconscious… and no wonder his face looked so pale. Cursing under my breath, I dragged him away from the pedestal and reached for the bracer. He needed heal—

"Vas Mani!"

I stopped, staring as Mellorin casually wove a spell of Greater Healing around Iolo. The horrible wound on his wrist closed, but I didn't trust how effective the spell would be. The wrist was a very delicate area… Why was Mellorin bothering, though? Bitterly, I suspected it was because she wanted the death to be by Arcadion's blade, not blood loss. I looked away from Mellorin's smirk as Iolo groaned.

"Hey," I whispered, crouching down to support his head and smiling when he squinted at me. "Why do you always manage to get yourself in trouble? You're meant to be the careful one."

"Elora?" he managed, the initial fear passing from his eyes. "Where..?"

"The Shrine of Compassion."

His eyes rolled back and I was afraid he'd faint, but a second later he was shaking his head violently. "Nay… nay we must get back! Back to the others! I know… I know who…"

I glanced at Mellorin again, who was lounging back with every impression she was enjoying the show.

"Who?" I prompted Iolo quietly, still watching my double.

"_Shamino_!" Iolo's gasp snapped my eyes back down to him again. "The spy! The daemon! It's _Shamino_!"

"That's impossible," I said. "I spoke to him right before I came! I gave h—"

And Mellorin smiled when I looked at her. Knowingly.

"It's _impossible_!"

Mellorin stood, sheathing the Blacksword across her back. "What a beautiful night," she murmured to no-one in particular. Then she slapped a hand against her bracer and disappeared.

Holding Iolo tighter, I touched my own bracer.

* * *

There was no one at the Shrine of Justice this time. I supported Iolo every step of the way to the Deep Forest, uncertainty and fear gripping me. 

"It's not true," I muttered from time to time. Iolo never gainsaid me. He'd lapsed into semi-unconsciousness, barely able to put one foot in front of the other. At one point I gathered enough courage to look at him through my undead eyes, and the colours they received verified his human appearance.

We were under the trees and halfway to the encampment by the time a couple of riders atop drakelings ran out to meet us. They were mounted by Julia and Katrina. Both of whom were also human.

Or drakeling.

"The mages keeping a watch on the area around the forest saw ye coming!" Julia shouted as they drew near. When they were close enough, she swung down and helped me push Iolo up into the saddle. "Let me know if he's slipping off, Draskis," Julia said to the drakeling, who bobbed a nod.

Katrina had noticed the Juggernaut Hammer gripped in my hand. "Where's Shamino?"

"He didn't return to camp then?" I asked, my heart sinking.

The two woman exchanged a glance, shook their heads and looked at me.

"I think," I said, sagging, "that we have a _very_ big problem."

* * *

"But he's been with us since the start," Julia argued after Iolo had been given into the capable hands of a healer and I'd taken a moment to ask some mages to keep a close eye on the Shrine of Honour. 

"Nay," Katrina said quietly. "We had to find him first. Remember, Elora?"

"The bee hive," I muttered, staring at the campfire the three of us were clustered around. "We were afraid Mellorin would get to him first. I guess she did."

"Thou'rt positive this isn't another trick?" Julia said.

I sighed. "When Iolo recovers we can ask him the full story. I'm inclined to believe the worst."

"The disguise was perfect," Katrina said. "He acted… just like the real thing. He even had Shamino's memories. How dost thou suppose that doth work?"

I flicked a twig into the fire and didn't answer. "I don't know what we can do now," was all I said.

The other two were silent.

After a minute or so, Lord Draxinusom arrived at the campfire and hunkered down with us.

"To say there is no sight of Shamino or any daemon within the camp," he said, folding his huge wings.

"Kra'lysie?" I asked.

The gargoyle shook his head. "To be no sign of the dragon, either."

I sank my face into my hands. As much as I wanted the dragon-woman's help right now in locating the spy, I dreaded the inevitable explosion when she was told who the spy _was._ She had never seemed to like Shamino. I couldn't help suspecting that this was because she'd known what he was all along. Thinking back on some of her odd remarks towards him, I was positively sure of the fact.

And I had told her that, without a doubt, that thing had been Shamino.

Visions of Armageddon filled my mind with horror. No matter where I might attempt to evacuate the Britannians and our allies too, it wouldn't matter. Mellorin could transport the daemon and the crown to any of the planes I could reach, and destroy each one.

"Well, we're not doing any good here," I said. "And the world hasn't ended yet. We might as well make good use of whatever time we have left."

"What dost thou suggest?" Katrina asked.

There was no point going to the Shrine of Spirituality yet. Resurrecting Lord British would have to wait until his ghost got here from Stonegate. I wasn't worried about Mellorin moving the body, because technically she could now end the world whenever she pleased. Jaana and Mariah? I had no idea where to start looking for them, and the chance to ask Arcadion for more information had passed.

"To suggest that what we might need," Lord Draxinusom said, "is a way to prevent the possible casting of this deadly spell."

I nodded. "Yeah, but prevention might not be possible if the daemon wears the crown. I saw the number of undead at Stonegate, and if every one of them had the ability to cast Armageddon—"

"To think otherwise, then." The gargoyle smiled. "Protection."

"Anti-magic fields?" Julia offered.

I frowned. "I don't know. I'm not sure it'd work if Armageddon was cast outside the range of the fields. Virtues, I don't even know if Armageddon can be protected against. It's Eighth Circle! And have you looked at the syllables in the damned incantation?"

"Elora," Julia said. "Thou'rt sidetracking."

I shook my head. "Sorry. It's been… a long day."

"To think some of us could use sleep," Draxinusom said, at which I felt guilty. It must have been near the third hour in the morning, and I wasn't being much help. "To ask what else protects against harmful magic?"

"Storm cloaks, of which we'd be lucky to find one…" Julia said. "They're practically relics by now."

"Amulets of Turning?" I said.

"They haven't been around in even longer," Katrina said.

Julia sat up straighter. "Blackrock!"

"We'd need a good way to manipulate it," I said, "and I'm afraid the Guardian's better than any of us." I looked at Draxinusom, who was shaking his head and smiling. "What?"

"To think you are forgetting something." His glowing blue eyes regarded us in turn "All of you." When none of us answered, his daemonic grin widened. "Lord British's Crown."

I stared. "Brilliant. I don't know how effective that'll be, but _some_ protection is vastly superior to none."

Only Katrina looked dubious. "It might protect the people we have with us, Avatar… my lord… but Armageddon is rumoured to rip through the world itself. Humans, Gargoyles, Trolls… creatures that walk or fly or crawl are not the only living things in Britannia."

"To not be perfect," Draxinusom agreed. "But to hope protection will ultimately not be needed."

"It's the best option we have right now," Julia said. "So where is it?"

"Richard left it in the Castle," I said. "You three get some sleep. I'll go pick it up."

Draxinusom regarded me with surprise. "Avatar, to remind you that a sizable force of Atarkans still surrounds Castle Britannia. To ask if you plan to walk through them?"

I grinned. "Not quite, Drax."

"I know that grin," Julia remarked in amusement. "Thou wearest it when thou thinkest thou'rt about to do something clever."

I patted her on the shoulder and stood up. "See you in the morning. Oh… and if Iolo tries to go anywhere on his own, have someone sit on him."

Julia and Katrina exchanged another long look. "Lord Draxinusom can have that honour," Katrina said with a smile. "I don't relish the idea of telling Gwenno why I was sitting on her husband."

"Nay. 'I was trying to stop him from going anywhere,' isn't an excuse a married woman would be satisfied with," Julia agreed.

The Gargoyle Lord snorted amusedly. "Women. To have none in our race, but to sympathise more with the males of your species every day."

Katrina leaned over to whisper something in Julia's ear, which made the tinker burst out laughing. Draxinusom regarded them both with deep suspicion.

"Tell me when I get back," I said wryly, reaching for my bracer. "I could use a good laugh."

-TBC-


	18. Duel of Fates V

**The Black Ankh  
**_Duel of Fates, Cont'd  
by Laura Campbell, aka Shadow of Light Dragon_

To say I felt horrible would have been an understatement. When I appeared again at the Shrine of Compassion, I wanted to scream. I wanted to smash something to pieces and just let all my anger out on something where there was no one to witness it. How could I, how could _we_, have been so duped by this pretender? What had happened to the _real_ Shamino? Dead? Imprisoned?

I paced around the Shrine for a time, waiting for my blood to cool from a boil to a simmer, but the sight of _Iolo's_ blood on the altar just fired me up again.

_Virtues… how I want to make her _bleed_ for all this. But that kind of vengeance will never be mine…_

At times like these, being 'the good guy' really, _really _sucked.

I struck out west towards Britain, cloaking myself with an Invisibility spell in case I ran across any patrols. The quiet of the night gradually calmed my anger, but at best I settled into a moody sort of depression. The earth beneath my feet was uneasy.

_How in the Abyss are we going to get out of this mess..?_

_I'm running out of ideas. I'm running out of _friends.

_And I'm so tired of it all…

* * *

_The walls of Britain were in sight when I ran into my first patrol. Ten soldiers, and a cursory scan revealed one of them to be a daemon. I hesitated as they approached, staying to one side of the road so none of them could accidentally walk into me. I knew the Atarkans hated daemons. None of them knew the Guardian had daemons walking in their ranks, serving as officers and messengers… 

With a small smile, I ripped away the daemon's illusion of humanity.

It didn't notice at once. The soldiers around it blurted in surprise and shock. Some stumbled as seven foot, horned and winged hellspawn with red skin and burning eyes suddenly _appeared_ in their midst. Swords were torn from scabbards and axes from belts as the daemon stared around, quite unaware of how this had happened. It didn't even have a chance to defend itself.

I turned my back on the scorch mark now decorating the road and continued west, turning thoughts and ideas over in my mind…

* * *

It was a simple matter to enter Britain unseen, made even easier by distracting those on watch by unmasking every single daemon I saw. This was how I managed to slip into the sewers undetected; soldiers were too busy dealing with daemons to notice the opening and closing of the underground entrance I selected. 

Invisibility, however, couldn't do a thing about the splashing I made in the sewer water, when I was forced to step in it. Nor the footprints in the green sludge. I picked my way carefully, relieved when the muck of the sewers gave way to firmer ground near the heavy metal doors that opened into Castle Britannia. It was unexpectedly free of enemy guards, but I didn't waste time to count my blessings. Balling my fist, I banged on the door and winced at the echoes it produced.

"Who goes?" a muffled voice on the other side said.

"Elora!" I called back, as loudly as I dared. "The Avatar!"

"Pull the other one! What's the password?"

"I don't know the password! Canst thou not get Geoffrey to verify who I am?"

There was a conversation on the other side of the door and I thought I heard footsteps retreating.

"If I have to wait out here much longer I might get caught," I called after a while, keeping an eye on the passage behind me. "Is Geoffrey there yet?"

"He's here," a familiar voice said from the other side. "Canst thou prove who thou art?"

"I appreciate your caution and everything, but it will be very hard to do that if you won't open the door."

"We're not that stupid." Then I heard him say to the guards to keep the doors closed.

I suppressed a sudden urge to blow the door off its hinges. "I'll just find one of the other secret doors then!" I shouted, not a little annoyed.

There was a sudden commotion on the other side of the door. I could make out Nystul, slightly breathless, saying to let me in. Geoffrey's response was that to do so would endanger everyone. Then the two started arguing about who was the more senior in rank. Geoffrey would win, I knew, but rank wouldn't help against someone who could float him to the roof and make him stick there. It eventually dawned on me, as the argument dissolved into name-calling ("Rust bucket!" "Garlic breath!"), that I could open the door myself. I'd forgotten I could cast spells in the Castle since the dome had collapsed.

The lock clicked with a thought, then I stepped back a little and opened the door telekinetically to allow the two guards and Geoffrey to charge through the opening without skewering me. Even Nystul, startled and dressed in his nightclothes, had a spell ready to throw.

I'd also forgotten I had no weapons. I'd left the Juggernaught Hammer back with the others, and hadn't thought to pick up a new sword. Rolling my eyes, I held out my arms and crossed them at the wrist.

"_Now_ dost thou believe me?" Nystul demanded of Geoffrey.

Geoffrey looked at my bracer, then my Ankh, then my eyes. "Come in, Elora."

The guards drew aside and followed me over the threshold, pulling the door to with a metallic boom. Geoffrey told the two to continue the watch, then led me and Nystul down the passage and into the better-lit training room. Even at this hour a couple of off-duty guards were practising swordplay with each other, but they stopped when we entered and whispered to each other at the sight of me.

"Hath the time come for us to join thine army, Avatar?" a short man with red hair asked.

Nystul whispered to me, "Since I felt thy return I've kept everyone abreast of thy movements."

I nodded to the old mage, my thoughts racing. "Geoffrey? How many people are still here in the castle?"

"There are more than a hundred of us," Geoffrey told me. "Thirty of those are the royal guard." He spoke of the most elite warriors ever to step out of training from both Jhelom and Serpent'sHold—some even from the Lycaeum—trained in all kinds of weaponry and on all kinds of terrain, hand-picked for their loyalty and prowess to serve as Lord British's personal guard. "We do not want to be cooling our heels for the war's entire duration," Geoffrey added, and there was a murmur of agreement from the guards.

"No," I agreed, studying the general's haggard face and the unfamiliar light in his eyes. For his ears only, I said, "You want revenge."

"No more than thou dost."

I shook my head, denying his words, denying my own thoughts, I didn't know. "I'm going to Resurrect him," I said, and they all knew of whom I spoke. "I know where he is, and we'll be able to do it soon. First, though, we need the magic protection of our king's Crown. That's why I'm here."

"Where wert thou when he was killed?" a warrior asked in a hard voice.

A ringing silence fell, like what you get right after a clap of thunder. Every eye was on me, though Geoffrey had given the speaker a frown at the question. _I failed him_, I couldn't help thinking. _I wasn't there, and she killed him._

"That's not important right now," Geoffrey said firmly. "Get back to training." He faced me. "Nystul and I will take thee to where the Crown is."

"Where's that?" I asked once we'd left the room.

"Canst thou not guess?"

I glanced sidelong at his telling smile and felt an involuntary grin touch my own lips. "He really needs to get a new hiding place set up."

Lord British's chamber, though unlived in, had been kept meticulously clear of dust by the servants. Or the Domestic Staff, or whatever it was they wanted to be called. I seated myself at the harpsichord and ran my fingers lightly over the keys, my thoughts abruptly far away. I didn't own such an instrument back home on Earth, though I did have a small keyboard. How often had I played Stones in the hope that its simple tune could somehow open a moongate to take me back to Britannia? How often had I played it and just imagined I was elsewhere..?

I sighed, then, aware the two men were watching, played the first thirteen notes of Stones. With the last note still hanging in the air, a secret section of wall opened outwards.

"Remarkable," Nystul said, eyeing the opening with curiosity. "I know the Castle has many secret passages, but this one I was unaware of!"

"Keep it under thy nightcap," Geoffrey said. "I'm sure our lord prefers to _keep_ this one secret."

The 'passage' was more like a depression. There was room enough for a couple of people to squeeze in, and this was mostly taken up by the few things Lord British had stowed in there. There was his sceptre, which had the power to dispel any magical fields. There, his Sandalwood Box, in which he kept a now-useless Orb of the Moons. Atop this rested his golden Crown, which, when worn, would protect the wearer and the wearer's party against all hostile magic.

_At least_, I thought as I picked it up, _that's the theory._ It could be that the Crown prevented all enemies within range from casting spells, rendering it almost as useless as an Anti-magic spell. Carrying the Crown out into the main chamber, I hoped this was not the case.

_I must be mad thinking this will protect us…_

Geoffrey pushed the secret compartment closed and the three of us looked at each other.

"Nystul," I said after a moment. "How much do you know about the spell called Armageddon—besides the fact no one's ever been stupid enough to cast it?"

The mage scratched at his dishevelled beard. "Mostly just what the incantation itself doth tell us. The spell seemeth designed not only to wipe out all life on and _in_ a world, but also to disrupt the very flow of time and ether. Why dost thou ask?" He looked concerned. "Is Mellorin going to cast it?"

"No, it's—" I stopped and blinked. Mellorin knew the spell. She'd known it as long as I had, and that was a _long_ time ago. She could cast it any time she wanted… she didn't need a daemon and a crown to do it for her...

Was my double so unreliable in the Guardian's eyes that he had this as a backup plan?

Was the daemon even working for anyone? With something as powerful as the Crown of the Liche King in its claws…

So many questions. And no answers.

"It's a long story," I finished. I glanced at Geoffrey, then at Nystul's sleeping attire. "You'd better get dressed. Unless you want to stay here when the rest of us leave, that is."

Geoffrey's eyes lit up. "I'll see that everyone's woken and gathered in the throne room. The guards will sweep the Castle a few times to ensure no one gets left behind."

I followed the two out of Richard's room and closed the door. As they went their separate ways, I headed up to the battlements for a good view of any enemy patrols passing by.

I intended to unmask a few more daemons before we departed.

And maybe get a sword from the armoury, too.

* * *

The arrival of the Britannians at the camp in the Deep Forest, when the sun was just starting to rise, caused some celebration amongst the few Britannians that were there. I understood that they'd been feeling a little outnumbered and overwhelmed by the outworlders, so an extra hundred or so from Castle Britannia raised their spirits greatly. After a short reunion with Julia and Katrina, and an explanation about drakelings (he already knew about tril'khai), Geoffrey went at once to confer with Lord Draxinusom about the status of the army. Nystul was meanwhile eyeing the outworld mages at a distance, his eyes afire with curiosity. 

"Why don't you go talk to them?" I suggested, grinning.

"Oh, I will, Avatar," he assured me. "But before I do, tell me about thy earlier query. Why didst thou ask about Armageddon?"

"I need to know if there's any way to protect against the spell, short of preventing it being cast in the first place." I lowered my voice and told him about the daemon and the Crown of the Liche King. Nystul's face grew more and more sombre as the story progressed.

"Of this crown I know nothing," he admitted. "And of that one…" he indicated Lord British's Crown, which I held in one hand. "It may protect a few from the ravages of Armageddon. Or it may just protect one. It will certainly not protect the entire world, Avatar…"

"I know. I mean, I didn't think it would." I sighed. "We need more."

"Well," Nystul raised his white brows. "Thou couldst try seeking an answer at the Lycaeum. 'Tis only the greatest collection of magical knowledge Britannia hath to offer." He grinned behind his beard and headed off towards the outworld mages, leaving me wondering why I hadn't thought of that myself.

"Thou knowest," Julia remarked from nearby, "that's a good idea."

"I was just thinking the same thing."

"Thou couldst also consider Serpent's Hold. I'm sure the knights there would join us."

"We don't really need extra swords at this point," I said.

"Nay? How many surround the Lycaeum? How many do we have?"

"I think we number one and a half thousand, give or take a few. As for the Lycaeum, are you suggesting we _all_ go there?"

The tinker grinned. "Why not? If thou'rt intending to do some study, thou couldst be there a while. The Lycaeum may be an oversized library, but 'tis also a fortified keep. Not only would we all be safer there than here in the open, there might be things like… oh… stores of food? And reagents?"

"Oh." I frowned. "How short _are_ we?"

"Not drastically, but we're not prepared to wait here for a month, let alone a week or two. Pretty soon the reagents will be wasted on creating food and water, then the mages will be useless for certain spells—including healing." Julia looked off into the camp. "So if we're going to fight our way to the keep, the knights might be useful."

"Granted." I sat down near the fire. "I don't know where we're even going anymore, Julia. I feel like everything's flapping loose."

"Thou'rt used to making things happen," Julia said. "Perhaps it's a shock to have things continually happen to thee?"

I shrugged. "Perhaps. Has Iolo woken up?"

"He's still sleeping. When do we plan to move out?"

"We're still waiting for Kra'lysie to turn up, aren't we?" Not to mention Lord British, I thought to myself.

At that moment, there was the sound of huge wings beating the air above the forest. The canopy trembled with the force of it… too strong to belong to a single dragon. I exchanged a glance with Julia, then we were both walking swiftly to the northern edge of the trees, sweeping up Katrina and various others in our wake. In the open sky we could see Kra'lysie circling on a wingtip, looking for a good place to land. With her were several other, smaller, Britannian dragons.

As soon as the red and gold Kra'lysie landed, she looked straight at me and grinned broadly. "No 'welcome back'?"

"Where have you been?" I asked.

"What does it look like?" She tossed her golden crest and turned her gaze skywards as the other dragons hovered around her, choosing their landing sites. "I've been recruiting for your army, Avatar."

-TBC-


	19. Duel of Fates VI

**The Black Ankh  
**_Duel of Fates, Cont'd  
by Laura Campbell, aka Shadow of Light Dragon_

For a while I could only stare, the dread of telling Kra'lysie about the daemon-Shamino temporarily wiped from my mind. In my journeys I'd seen many dragons. Unfortunately, most of them had taken exception to my presence and tried to kill me, so the fact that there was a group of them crouched on the muddy grass outside the Deep Forest and none had so much as breathed a puff of flames in my direction was a novelty. With the exception of Kra'lysie, I'd never really _seen_ dragons up close while they were still alive. Dracothraxus might count a bit there too, but I'd been too focussed on the inside of her tooth-lined maw to fully appreciate the rest of her.

A crowd of the curious were gathering in the trees behind me. There were even a few drakelings, and I could only wonder what was going through _their_ minds.

"Recruiting?" I managed.

"Recruiting!" Kra'lysie repeated, looking proud with herself. "You know, like when you go off somewhere and ask other people to join you on your quest? That kind of thing."

"I know what recruiting is!"

"Then why did you say 'Recruiting?' like that?"

"I couldn't think of anything else to say!"

"How about 'Thank you'?"

The other dragons were watching me with varying expressions. Curiosity, disinterest, excitement… A green male with gold underwings looked openly amused. Another male, gold, observed the proceedings with no humour at all, but a kind of grim purpose.

"That's a liche," a glittering red female observed, blazing eyes scrutinising me down her snout.

"I explained her situation, Nightfire," Kra'lysie said mildly. "And as for the rest of the introductions, this is Goldenflame-" the golden male inclined his head, "-Tailrace-" the green scaled, gold winged male grinned, displaying an impressive array of teeth, "-Arkandor-" a second green male drew himself up, "-and Flameblight," a second red female puffed out her chest and swished her tail, narrowly avoiding splattering mud over us. "I tried to get another to come," Kra'lysie added, "but she said something about being in too many places at the same time already."

"Five additional dragons is more than I expected anyway," I said, more than a bit overcome. "Thank you. All of you. Your help means a lot to us. Forgive me, but I didn't realise the dragons of Britannia had any interest in the affairs of humans."

"Tir Mordreth," Goldenflame said bluntly, "concerns us all."

* * *

It took a little while to get Kra'lysie alone. Now that her Britannian kin were here she'd seemed content to remain with them rather than return to the army proper in her human form. Some time after the introductions, however, she'd finally asked where Dupre was. Or, rather, demanded to know. In tones that indicated she wanted to show off her hard work to him, and possibly gloat. 

I told her about the failed attempt on the Isle of the Avatar, which she listened to in a seething silence.

"What of the _mezzin-thra_ and _tril'kha_?" she asked at the end.

"They were caught too," I said, resisting the urge to squirm uncomfortably. Her golden-eyed gaze was entirely too penetrating.

"She expected you," Kra'lysie said. "You have a spy."

"It's been taken care of. After a fashion…"

"Good. So when do we go on a rescue mission? I might not be able to roast anyone, but my draconic friends could make nice work of the Isle of the Avatar."

I sighed and took the plunge. "I think you should hear the rest. The spy was Shamino. But not the real Shamino."

The dragon-woman's eyes narrowed. "I don't remember seeing more than one 'Shamino'."

"Well… you've only met the one that wasn't him…"

"You mean," she said slowly, her face like stone, "the one that you _assured_ me upon meeting in that cave was your _friend_?"

"I thought it was. I didn't know he was a daemon!"

She stared. Then, as expected, exploded. "_You! Are! A! LICHE! _Why didn't you _look _at him! _Kemah-thra_!"

I winced as her voice rose. "There's more."

That silenced her for the moment. Her next words were a growl. "Tell me."

By the end of my recitation of the disastrous happenings in her absence, she was shaking her head and regarding me with cold incredulity. "Well, Avatar. You've really screwed Britannia this time."

"That's funny," I retorted, suddenly annoyed. "I kind of remember a daemon being involved."

"A daemon you could have recognised if you'd have looked at it in the last… how many _months_ has it been?"

"And why would I have recognised it? Because I'm a liche?" I brandished the bracer at her. "Should I remind you whose _race_ is responsible for that?"

We glared at each other for a minute, and I averted my gaze first.

"Yeah," I muttered, staring off at the encampment of Britannians and outworlders, all of whom may well have followed me here just to die. All my eggs in one basket… just like Kra'lysie herself had warned me. "I screwed up big time."

"Might I suggest something?" Kra'lysie said. Her tone wasn't entirely forgiving, but it wasn't condemning either. She pointed at the Crown I was still carrying. "If the point of that thing is to offer some protection, perhaps it would be a good idea if someone put it on."

I blinked. "Oh…"

"It doesn't _have_ to be you if you're too shy," she added testily, after a couple of minutes of watching my internal struggle. "I just think that sooner rather than later is better, all living things considered."

"I've done it before," I said, both for her information and my own reassurance. Lifting the glittering thing in both hands, I settled it across my brow.

Behind me, a distant-sounding but amused voice said, "I thought thou said thou hadst no wish to be the Lady of Britannia, Elora."

I spun, almost snatching the Crown from my head. "Rich—"

"Nay, Elora, put it back on!" The late king chuckled. "It's not as though I can make use of it right now."

"Something I plan to remedy soon," I said.

Kra'lysie was staring at the shade of Arthalan. "Drakrasath!" she said at last, hoarsely, and bowed her head in obvious supplication.

"Friend of yours?" I asked, raising a brow.

Arthalan only smiled. "Richard," she said, "thou shouldst get thy body back as soon as possible. Thine absence isn't doing Britannia any favours…"

"I'll get it. Er. You." I glanced north. "You might want to drift over to the Shrine of Justice so we can do the Resurrection right away. And someone find Lord Draxinusom. I think he can handle the spell-casting part."

* * *

The Shrine of Spirituality resembled a morgue.

Bodies, at least fifty of them, were piled around the pedestal. Not arranged in any respectful fashion, no. They'd been dumped. There was Jaana, Mariah… various others I'd only seen around the Isle of Fire. Seen and never known. Others were there I didn't recognise at all.

There was no sign of Lord British's body.

I searched carefully, the task of inspecting each dead face not one that I enjoyed for a second. When I was sure, I transported myself and the dead back to the Shrine of Justice, where I was greeted by the disbelieving faces of Julia, Kra'lysie, Richard, Arthalan and Draxinusom.

"She was using the place as a damned meat locker," I told them, scowling. "And I couldn't find your body, milord… this is all of them. Maybe she saw it coming."

"Thou didst not tell the spy, didst thou?" Julia suggested.

I thought back and shook my head. "I don't think so."

"Arcadion knew," Richard said softly. "Perhaps he told her."

Kra'lysie muttered something about daemons in general as I shrugged and sighed. "At least we can get Jaana, Mariah and these others back on their feet. I'll send for some more healers so Drax doesn't have to—" I paused as something south caught my eye. Someone atop a drakeling was running fast towards us, shouting words we were too far away to hear. "It's Katrina."

"Not more bad news, I hope," Julia said under her breath.

"The Isle of Fire!" Katrina shouted as the drakeling pounded closer, tearing up grass and clods of earth with its hind claws. "The mages say there are people on the Isle of Fire! They just appeared a few minutes ago." The drakeling drew to a halt nearby, hissing something urgently. "I didn't see it myself so I don't know who's there, but Jae'tar and that big cat were with them! So were Bishop and several drakelings!"

"How did—" Julia began, but stopped and rolled her eyes at my sudden grin. "What didst thou do?"

"Remember that recall orb you gave me when the Isle of Fire surfaced, milord?" I asked Richard. "I gave that to Jae'tar. I meant her to use it so she and Swift could escape, but it seems as though they must have taken some passengers."

"There are hundreds of them, Elora," Katrina said. She slid from the drakeling's saddle. "What if Mellorin goes after them? They're unarmed."

The drakeling chittered something that I didn't understand, but thought I could guess the meaning of. "If they have drakelings and Bishop with them, they're not defenceless," I said, and the creature clicked proudly.

"I could carry you there, Avatar," Kra'lysie said. "Between me and the _aeth'raesh'al_ we could have them all here in less than ten minutes."

I frowned thoughtfully.

"It could be a trap," Lord British said.

"It's not."

The ghost furrowed his pale brows. "How canst thou be sure, Avatar?"

I blinked. "Sure of what? I didn't say—"

The drakeling snarled.

Mellorin leaned against the crumbling pedestal of the shrine, her arms folded. Before any of us could do more than put hands to weapons, she said, "It's not a trap. I let them go. Of course, I didn't know they'd be able to escape the Isle of the Avatar so easily… I'd intended for them to slow the daemons down." She shook her head. "Some things just don't go as planned…"

"You just came here to talk, did you?" I said quietly, moving to put myself between her and my companions.

"No." My double's eyes roved over the group and the bodies lined on the ground, where Lord Draxinusom was putting his magic to the task of some Resurrections. "It's all gone a bit… pear-shaped, actually. A daemon wasn't meant to get its hands on the Crown of the Liche King. That's… not good, apparently."

"Not good for whom?"

"Anyone. I know _you_ were only concerned about the Armageddon spell," she added to me. "You shouldn't be. Neither the Guardian nor the daemons are interested in a dead world. It's the second incantation you should be more concerned about."

I raised a brow. "Are we on the same side now?" but Lord British murmured, "Let her speak, Avatar."

Mellorin looked at the ghost of the king. "The second spell raises the dead, but not to life. To undeath. The daemons have your body, Richard, and they plan to start with it. Can you guess why?"

It was Arthalan's ghost who said, "The land and the king are one."

"But that's not entirely true of Britannia," I put in. "The Avatar is also a part of the land."

A thin smile stretched Mellorin's lips. "Yes. They'll be coming for _us_ next. They already tried to make a grab for me, actually, but I escaped."

"And came running to us for help?" I snorted. "Don't you have an army? Couldn't you have used it to kill the daemons?"

"Well… do you remember how good that illusion of Shamino was? It's imitating _me_ now." When I didn't come with anything new to say, Mellorin pressed on. "Once Lord British is undead and under their thrall, they plan to catch you and me and force us back into one being. Whichever way it goes, we'll share the same fate as Richard. Once he and we are undead, Britannia will belong to them."

"What of the people?" Katrina asked.

Arcadion spoke up for the first time, from the scabbard across Mellorin's back. "I imagine most will be left alive. Daemons need the living… to feed. Britannia will be one big breeding and feeding ground."

The drakeling hissed softly, fangs bared.

Mellorin unsheathed the Blacksword and reversed it, offering me the hilt. "If you disbelieve anything I've said, ask him yourself."

I did so, and Arcadion verified her words.

"If you attack the Isle of the Avatar now, you might be able to save Lord British," Mellorin went on. "The Atarkan armies stand between you and the Shrine of the Codex, so you'll have to move fast."

"How long will the ritual take?" Lord British asked.

"No daemon has ever cast it," Arcadion said. "But what will delay the one with the crown is ensuring no other daemons are close enough to profit from its powers when he puts it on. They have broken from the Guardian, and they do not trust each other.

"Know this, Avatar," the daemon continued. "Britannia—Sosaria, has gone through Armageddon in its ancient past and, in time, it recovered. But that was before it had you and British. Your lives, your deaths… your _undeaths_, are intertwined. And the undeath my kind plan to invoke upon you and your world cannot be undone.

"Only ended."

-TBC-


	20. Duel of Fates VII

**The Black Ankh  
**_Duel of Fates, Cont'd  
by Laura Campbell, aka Shadow of Light Dragon_

I don't think there was anyone who liked the idea of Mellorin's presence. Lord British said he would keep watch over her, since there was probably nothing more she could do to him that she hadn't already (even so, I'd asked a couple of the mind-reading tril'khai to tag along at a discreet distance). Julia and Katrina took it upon themselves to stay close to Iolo, who hadn't regained consciousness since the Shrine of Compassion. Jaana and Mariah, who had been Resurrected with the others I'd brought back from the Shrine of Spirituality, displayed no fear in Mellorin's presence, but anyone who knew them well enough could sense their disquiet. Even Dupre, who'd been brought back with the rest from the Isle of Fire with Arcadion's help, avoided looking at her if he could help it, and refused to discuss anything that'd happened on the Isle of the Avatar besides the escape.

Only Geoffrey seemed unconcerned by the Dark Avatar's presence, as he and other military minds discussed tactics for an assault on the Shrine of the Codex.

I wandered through the breaking camp aimlessly, trying to shake the thought that we'd never see the end of this. My feet took me to Lord Draxinusom, who was standing alone on the edge of the Deep Forest, his red skin vivid against the greenery. He looked away from the still-swirling clouds as I approached, nodded and returned his gaze to the sky where the noon sun blazed. I came to his side and stood in silence.

Thunder rumbled somewhere far off.

"To not feel his presence," Draxinusom said at last, in hushed tones. "To have felt it always before in Britannia. To have felt him in the very air and ether, as real as the grass we stand on, until he died. Even with his ghost near… to not feel him. Or you. To be in Britannia now when he is dead, and you are as you are, it is like…"

I waited quietly, before realising I knew what he was trying to articulate. I knew what he was feeling, or _not _feeling.

"It's like your home," I said. "The Underworld. When… the world was crumbling." I hesitated, forced myself to say the word: "Dying."

He inclined his head, still staring upwards. "To see? To see Britannia struggle… fight for a breath that won't come. To feel her suffocating, as the Underworld did."

_I can't breathe…_

The words flickered in my mind, vanished. I shivered.

Draxinusom inhaled deeply then looked down at me. "To ask what plans have been decided?"

"The mages have been watching the Isle of the Avatar," I said. "There are scrying shields over the Shrine of the Codex, but Arcadion is pretty sure only one daemon is in there with Richard's body… though it's likely there are human guards there too.

"The rest of the army is gathered all down the length of the island—what parts of it aren't too rocky. No one can walk the eastern side, so they're all formed up down the western slopes." I paused. "There's a shield over the Shrine of Humility too."

"That is where we will arrive," the gargoyle said, and I nodded.

"I'll go in first, by myself. I discovered a while back that an unfortunate habit of the _aeth'raesh'al_ bracer is that it tears down scrying shields."

The gargoyle, grinning, wordlessly returned his attention to the sky. After a breath of silence, filled only by the soft patter of raindrops falling from the trees behind us, he said, "To fight."

_Fight for a breath that won't come…_

I looked up at the whirlpool of cloud, hearing again the distant thunder.

"We fight."

* * *

"The Atarkans will be focussed on keeping us hemmed in at the Shrine of Humility," Geoffrey said. "The area around the shrine isn't small, but it isn't large enough to contain all our forces. Even if it was, it wouldn't be wise to bring them all in to an enclosed area. Mellorin… offered an alternative." 

My double stepped forward and overturned a leather bag, sending a collection of smooth, brightly coloured rocks tumbling to the grass.

"The Virtue Stones?" Dupre said.

"When the Atarkans plundered Britain," Mellorin said, "these were taken from the museum. I thought it would be useful to have a way to teleport besides the bracer, and Marking one of those things for the caverns under the island was more convenient than walking from the Shrine of Humility every time."

"It's true," Arcadion said from my hand, sounding bored. I'd ordered the daemon to verify anything Mellorin said that was true, and denounce anything false.

"Does he _really_ have to keep doing that?" Mellorin asked, annoyed, and rolled her eyes when several voices said "Yes," as one.

"This means," Geoffrey said, shooting a quelling gaze around the group, "that while some of us attack through the Shrine of Humility, the rest can enter via the caves using the appropriate Virtue Stone. Neither Elora nor Mellorin are needed in that second group. The teleportation can be achieved by any accomplished mage, and Mellorin has provided a serviceable map of the tunnels."

"As I recall," Dupre said, "those caves exit quite close to the path that leads to the Codex."

Geoffrey nodded. "The force that goes that way, though, won't be heading for the Codex. They'll be attacking the Atarkans from behind and keeping _them_ from the Codex."

"For those who're coming with _me_ into the Shrine of the Codex," I said, "that group will be watching our backs."

"And hopefully the two-front attack will be such that the Atarkans will be too confused to decide which group to rally against, giving Elora the time she needs to rescue our king."

"And grab that crown," Mellorin said. "Unless you want some other daemon picking it up."

"Destroy it, rather," Kra'lysie said. "That'll solve the problem."

Dupre spoke over both of them. "So if thou'rt going with neither group, Elora, how art thou—I'm sorry. How are _we_ getting to the Shrine of the Codex?"

At this, Kra'lysie grinned broadly. As I nodded for her to speak her piece, Dupre groaned and put his face in his hands.

"Don't tell me," the knight said. "We're flying, aren't we."

"I can carry a few by myself," the dragon-woman said, blithely ignoring (or enjoying?) Dupre's display. "The dragons of your world can only safely manage one each. That flying horse Cale can carry another. We can fly down the eastern side where no one's to see, drive away anyone guarding the entrance to the caves so the group down there can safely emerge… and then…"

"Then the dragons can help our army," Geoffrey said, in answer to her questioning gaze. "They'll be too big to offer much help in the Shrine of the Codex—saving thyself, Lady Kra'lysie," he added quickly as she started to puff up, and in response to Dupre's frantic hand-waving from behind her back.

"Well, good," she muttered. "I'll go with the Avatar. I can't kill humans, but I would _really_ like to try setting that daemon alight. What are you laughing at, Avatar?"

"Er. Nothing."

* * *

"Me," I said, "you, Julia, Katrina… Jaana doesn't want Iolo to come, but Iolo says that someone has to write down what _really_ happens and can't trust any of us to pay attention to the details…" 

"So he's making a full recovery," Dupre remarked.

I grinned. "Jaana, Mariah, Lord Draxinusom—he can fly himself, Cale, Bishop, Kra'lysie—"

"—of course…"

"—Sentri, Tseramed, Spark—"

"Art thou sure about Spark? He's still so young."

"I thought that at first too, when he asked to come with us, but have you seen him lately? He doesn't _look_ young anymore."

Dupre only frowned and motioned for me to continue.

"Only one more. Mellorin."

"We have to bring her with us?" he asked, looking unhappy.

"Wouldn't you feel better if she was in a position where we could keep an eye on her?"

"Thou canst not possibly trust her."

"Of course I don't." I tapped my nails on Arcadion's scarred blade. I'd insisted the Shade Blade remain with me, while Mellorin make do with the Lifestealer she'd previously taken. "But I believe she doesn't want to be turned into a zombie, or whatever the daemons have planned."

"I just don't understand what she's doing here," the knight said, glancing around and lowering his voice. "Why would she care what happens to Britannia? She could just transport herself to another plane."

"She would be chased," Arcadion said. "The _aeth'raesh'al_ is limited in its destinations, and all of them have been touched by the Guardian's servants. Sooner or later she would be caught. She doesn't want to spend her life always running and always looking over her shoulder."

Dupre shook his head. "But why warn us about Lord British, then?"

"Our lives are intertwined," I murmured. "Maybe she's afraid his… undeath would affect her?"

"Did his _death_ affect her?" Dupre asked sharply.

"It did," Arcadion said.

"Very enigmatic. It just sounds, Avatar, like once we're done with the Crown of the Liche King, we're back to square one. Mellorin won't just say 'thank thee' and give thee her bracer."

"Do you know what she has planned?" I asked Arcadion.

"No."

"There's someone missing from your list," Dupre said, after a moment.

I nodded. "Shamino."

"Do we even know where he is?"

Arcadion sighed when my eyes fell on his crystalline prison. "He's alive. And a lot safer than you're soon to be. He is not on Britannia."

"I hope he's all right," Dupre said quietly. A moment passed before he spoke again. "I should check a few things before we leave. And someone should tell Kra'lysie how many people she's going to be carrying."

He wandered off, leaving me alone.

"You don't know how to end this, do you, Master?"

I shook my head.

"Perhaps, then, you might be interested in a theory I have. But first I must ask… do you trust _me_?"

I smiled wryly. "Arcadion, we both know that any plans you share with me, or I share with her, can be betrayed."

"Just answer the question," he said patiently.

"I trust you to an extent."

"You must wear the Crown of the Liche King," Arcadion said. "I will tell you no more so Mellorin can't pry it out of me later, but after you've put it on I will tell you what to do. If you listen to me and do as I say… you will not have to worry about that shackle on your wrist for much longer."

"You couldn't have told me all this before? When I still _had_ the crown?"

"I'm telling you _now_, Avatar. Whether you choose to listen or not is entirely up to you."

"Listening to daemons again?" Kra'lysie's voice made me jump. The dragon-woman was leaning against a tree behind me, her arms folded and her golden eyes disapproving. "Don't you remember where that leads, Avatar?"

"How much did you hear?" I asked, glancing around to see if I had any more of an audience.

Her eyes narrowed further. "What, you'll trust _it_ but not me?"

"No! That's not what I meant. I wanted your opinion. If you heard it all I won't have to repeat it."

Kra'lysie raised a brow. "It's hard to say, considering that the sword seems to be hiding a great deal of this scheme even from you—for precautionary reasons, surely. No need to watch your back at all."

"Thank you very much for that vote of confidence," Arcadion drawled.

Kra'lysie scowled at the weapon, then turned her glare upon me again. "We're ready to go, Avatar. We only need you."

-TBC-


	21. Duel of Fates VIII

**The Black Ankh  
**_Duel of Fates, Cont'd  
by Laura Campbell, aka Shadow of Light Dragon_

Kra'lysie fell back to walk just behind me as we reached the edge of the Deep Forest. The allied humans, gargoyles, goblins, trolls, tril'khai, drakelings and dragons of Britannia, Atarka, Tarna and Scaeduen had gathered on the clear stretch of ground between the trees and the Shrine of Justice. I was intensely conscious of heads turning in our direction as we strode from the cover of the forest and between the massed forces. I was even more aware, uncomfortably so, of the Crown of Lord British glittering in the noon sun.

I heard whispers of my name as the dragon-woman and I strode towards the Shrine of Justice, where the 'command group' were waiting. There was hope in most of the voices. Pride. Determination. I could almost hear the thoughts behind the simple vocalisation of my title. It was the same as when I'd brought the Britannians through the heat-blasted desert on Atarka…

_But how many deaths will there be this time? Virtues… help us. Help me. Please._

"Thou art troubled," a familiar voice murmured at my left shoulder. Richard had flickered into vague form and drifted near-invisibly in my wake.

"Aren't you?" I relied quietly.

The ghost smiled. "Thou canst not take care of everyone, Elora. Focus on thy tasks and let others look to their own strength for this fight. Trust that they will do what they're here to do."

I nodded slowly. "I will. What will you do?"

"There is nothing much I _can_ do… I will likely see thee on the Isle of the Avatar."

_One way or another,_ my mind added as he faded from sight. I tried to banish the thought of my king, my friend, rising from death with incandescence in his eyes and malice in his smile. The possibility, however, was real. If it happened… would I have the strength to end him?

Would I have the strength to end Britannia?

"You don't have to worry about that, Avatar," Kra'lysie said, her voice pitched low.

"Listening in again?" I asked mildly. After a moment, when she didn't answer, I added, "You would… kill him?"

"Not just him."

I continued to look straight ahead as we walked on, my strides unchecked. Finally, quietly, I replied, "Thank you."

* * *

The assault began.

The first group, the goblins from Tarna under the lead of their regent, used the Virtue Stone Mellorin had Marked for the caves beneath the Isle of the Avatar. We had no idea what kind of resistance there would be down there now that there were no prisoners to guard, but Mellorin was sure that almost six hundred goblins would be more than enough to overpower any patrols.

With the rest waiting, I transported myself, invisible, to the Shrine of Humility.

The first thing I saw, as the new scenery wavered into view, was soldiers. No… daemons. All of them daemons. At least twenty. And all of them reacted with exclamations and curses as the scrying shield I'd just ripped through fell to pieces around them. A couple attempted spells designed to restore the shield, others to reveal what had torn it down. All failed, but my attention wasn't immediately on their magical endeavours.

There was a glowing… portal. It hung in the air above the shrine's pedestal like a great cloud of steam, distorting and blurring everything behind it.

They were trying to re-open the old daemon gate that had existed back in the Age of Enlightenment.

"_Were I you, Avatar_," Kra'lysie distant voice came to my mind, "_I would either make myself scarce or fireproof_."

I had only a couple of seconds with which to consider that choice before the air above the Shrine of Humility was full of dragons. Mellorin, who'd transported them here, had the presence of mind to vanish almost as quickly as she'd arrived. I almost followed her, before remembering that the Crown would only offer our draconic allies its protection so long as I remained with them.

Flames roared all around me, punctuated by reptilian shrieks and daemonic cries. The advantage was clearly on the side of the dragons, for most of the daemons kept trying to use magic. The quicker ones shed their human guises and took flight, seeking to either engage or flee. None got very far.

"That was all?" Kra'lysie demanded, alighting on a cliff. Her eyes were bright with victory. "If that's the worst we must face, Avatar, I'm surprised we didn't try a frontal attack sooner!"

"You did great," I said, dropping my invisibility. "Keep an eye on things here and we'll start bringing people in."

* * *

It didn't take too long. As soon as a force was brought into the Shrine of Humility, they surged from the canyon to engage the Atarkan troops camped to the west. A group of mages remained with the daemon gate, seeking a way to reseal it.

With the battle joined, those we'd organised to fly with the dragons to the Shrine of the Codex gathered and mounted. Lord Draxinusom elected to fly himself, and while I'd expected to travel with Kra'lysie, I found the _molan_ Cale approaching me. At that, Kra'lysie only sniffed and promised she wouldn't be offended. Mellorin was carried by Tailrace, who casually informed her he'd have no trouble eating her if she pulled anything.

We lifted off, flew east past the edge of the island's cliffs, then skimmed so low across the water I could have almost sworn I could reach down and touch it. The experience of riding Cale was quite different to Kra'lysie. I had to shake my head the longer the journey became, as I started seeing… things. No, that wasn't quite right. I started getting impressions that I was someone else. There was the faint outline of a helm obscuring my vision, and I could see the black hilt of a sword, as transparent as smoke, hovering before me.

A memory of another world's Avatar, long dead? Or an offer?

The impulse to reach out and take the hilt was strong.

Cale's muscles bunched beneath me and his burning wings tilted as we began to curve around a sheer cliff that dropped down into foaming surf. As we swept past, the sloping valley leading towards the Guardian Statues was instantly visible. So were the ranks of Atarkan soldiers massed before it. At the sight of me astride the fire-winged horse, there were distant shouts and finger pointing.

The reaction when six dragons glided into view in our wake was a bit more panicky.

Men and women broke ranks and fled as draconic roars reverberated through the valley. As the dragons sped towards the foe with fire kindling in their throats (except Kra'lysie, that is), my eyes were distracted by the hovering sword hilt once again. I noticed Cale was not hanging back, was instead folding his wings to speed over the heads of the enemy. Thinking I understood what the _molan_ was trying to convey, I grabbed the sword hilt hanging in the air.

The Voidblade solidified in my grasp.

With dragonfire gushing down on either side of me and arrows thwipping up from below, Cale swooped lower. I flourished the Valkyrie's sword high.

Beneath us, enemy soldiers toppled like felled trees.

"There!" Kra'lysie bellowed above us. "The goblins are emerging! Give them cover!"

I cast about until I could find the cave mouth leading into the tunnels beneath the Isle of the Avatar. Sure enough, the green-skinned goblins of Tarna were pouring from the entrance. While the dragons kept the bulk of the foe at bay with their fire, the goblins cut into the rest between the burning turf and the Guardian Statues. Then, as though it'd been something they'd practised, the dragons broke off with a furious backsweep of their wings and the goblins charged forward to engage the soldiers who were still reeling from the burning, skyborne assault.

"Take us down!" I yelled, and Kra'lysie repeated my order in her louder voice. Once those of us with two legs were safely grounded (some more gratefully than others), the five Britannian dragons beat their way aloft again to rejoin the fight. While the three males remained to support the goblins, the two females struggled for altitude and veered northwards, where the rest of the army was embattled near the Shrine of Humility.

"Uh, Avatar?" Iolo began.

"What?"

The bard cleared his throat, and looked at me pointedly. Some of the others were regarding me with curious expressions. Mellorin's face was carefully blank. After a second, I realised I was still sitting astride Cale, the Voidblade clenched in one hand. With a slight grin, I slid from the _molan_'s back and tossed the sword into the air, where it curled into smoke and dissipated.

A few eyes widened.

Kra'lysie, reverted to human form once more, muttered "Show-off," under her breath.

"That's a neat trick," Dupre managed. "How didst thou know… er… how to do that, exactly?"

"I read it in a book somewhere." Reaching over my shoulder, I drew the Blacksword. The expressions of my friends changed instantly with that small action. Some froze, some looked wary… others looked away.

For a fraction of a second, I could have sworn Mellorin smirked.

"Come on," I said, turning for the Guardian Statues and pushing myself into a run. "Richard's waiting for us."

* * *

As Arcadion had predicted, the Shrine of the Codex was guarded by human soldiers and mages. Fifty of them, not counting the daemon. The daemon itself, disguised as me, was standing near the Codex's empty pedestal, Richard's body sprawled on the crimson carpeted dais. At the sight of our arrival, the creature snatched something away from its head. The crown? I couldn't tell if it'd been about to wear it, or had just taken it off… The daemon's voice, my voice, lifted to command our deaths.

Fifty of them against fifteen of us.

But we weren't just human. There was Kra'lysie. There was Cale. There was Lord Draxinusom.

There was me.

I smiled grimly as the bulk of the enemy moved to bar the way into the shrine. Their mages began to incant…

Only five soldiers were left protecting the daemon.

Silently, I sent my words into the minds of my companions. "_I'm going to Blink us past this lot. Mellorin, you and I will tackle the daemon._" I wasn't leaving her to backstab any more of my friends."_The rest of you, keep the Atarkans off our backs. Kill them, incapacitate them, get them to surrender, just keep them occupied._"

"_But—_" Kra'lysie began.

"_You're with me too, Kra'lysie._"

Oddly, there was not a word of protest from my friends. I'd been hoping there wouldn't be, but had expected some. Then again, it was Mellorin they wanted a piece of, not some daemon

With a focussed thought, I transported the lot of us into the Shrine, halfway between the daemon and the majority of the soldiers.

Cale reared, spread his fiery wings to their full width and screamed a wild challenge. In the moment of fearful uncertainty this generated in the Atarkans, we all ran to the attack.

"You're pathetic, you know that?" Mellorin shouted as the two of us rushed forward together, preparing to take on the five soldiers moving to protect the daemon. "You could have killed them all with a few words and spared us the trouble! You could have flattened the entire army!"

I swung the Shade Blade to block an oncoming sword. "And risk my own sanity? Next I could be turning my powers on my friends!"

Mellorin snorted and neatly ran one soldier through. She wrapped her left hand around her bandaged right wrist as she wrenched the Lifestealer free. "You're stronger than that. The real reason is because you think using that kind of power is evil. Let me ask you something, _Avatar_, isn't it more evil to spare your virtuous self the deaths of an enemy army so that all your allies can bleed and die to achieve the same end?"

"You don't know what it's like to be undead, so don't pretend you can understand!" Taking down one adversary, I moved to engage the second. The daemon, I noticed, was nearing panic. A sidelong glance revealed Kra'lysie stalking one side of the fray, her eyes burning.

Mellorin drew a sharp breath. "I might get that chance soon if we don't hurry!"

I followed her gaze. The daemon, in apparent desperation, had lifted the Crown of the Liche King.

Kra'lysie pounced forward with a roar, which still sounded oddly draconic even in her human form. Despite her lack of wings, she virtually flew up to the dais.

Mellorin and I, at the same time, smashed through the final two soldiers and charged up the stairs, swords flailing.

All three of us reached the creature at the same time and, after it fell, not one of us could agree who had killed it.

* * *

I crouched and pulled the Crown of the Liche King from the pitiful heap of ashes before Mellorin could try to claim it. I hadn't given much thought into how the thing could be destroyed. I supposed it would have to be done as soon as possible, if not after the battle was—

"Put it on, Avatar," Arcadion murmured.

I glanced down at the softly glowing ether gem, feeling a need to shiver. _Did_ I trust the daemon? Did I trust him with my life..?

"You are my only chance at freedom, Master," the daemon whispered into my uncertain silence. "If I betray you, I'm stuck in this cursed blade forever. And what choice do you have, really? This… or waiting for Mellorin to cooperate."

I stood slowly. Pitching my voice as low as I could, I said, "I just don't understand how—"

"Trust me."

I clenched my jaw and quickly removed the Crown of Lord British, replacing it with the Crown of the Liche King. Insofar as I could feel heat and cold as one of the undead, the touch of the second crown against my skin burned like ice and I heard myself gasp at the contact. The sound and the sensation deafened me to whatever Kra'lysie had just said, but her outraged tone of voice couldn't be misinterpreted.

For a moment… I felt it. I felt the power of _life_ flowing through me…

…followed by pain.

I looked down with a kind of detached interest at the length of bloodstained steel protruding from my chest. The Lifestealer.

"Very well done, Arcadion," Mellorin's voice murmured near my ear. She gestured, whispering, and Energy Fields sprang up across the width of the Shrine of the Codex, blocking the two of us from the rest of the group. Some of them, upon seeing Mellorin's betrayal, had shouted in fury or alarm and started towards us. None of them could help now. From the looks on their faces, they knew it as well as I did. I was also aware, belatedly so, of Kra'lysie lying in a crumpled heap at the foot of the dais.

"Enough power, and I'll be free." Mellorin twisted the sword a bit, pushing. Burning metal slithered through me until I felt the press of the hilt against my back. I stood as one paralysed, waiting for I knew-not-what. I could feel life-force and power flooding through me like a never-ending wave, and spilling out into the Lifestealer.

"…Avatar."

My gaze dropped to the Blacksword again, where it hung from my limp grasp.

_Traitor_, I wanted to say, but I didn't seem capable of uttering a word. I could feel my end nearing. I could see death approaching through the tidal wave of life, through the stagnancy of undeath, and could only watch…

"Avatar," Arcadion said again. "Strike."

Then Mellorin said what I couldn't, her voice sharp.

"What?"

"You are wearing the Crown of the Liche King," he said patiently. "I am a daemon. _Strike._"

I obeyed without fully comprehending, my fingers tightening and my arms making the move a single fluid motion. Reversing the Shade Blade, both hands clenched around the hilt, I thrust backwards and upwards. Mellorin's cry of pain and shock coupled with the tear of metal through chain, leather and flesh.

"Arcadion."

I heard my voice as though from a great distance, slow and distinct.

"Arcadion. _Restore my powers_."

-TBC-


	22. Duel of Fates IX

**The Black Ankh  
**_Duel of Fates, Cont'd  
by Laura Campbell, aka Shadow of Light Dragon_

Memories not my own assailed my senses. It was like two great seas crashing together, merging into a greater entity that, while being neither, comprised both. I drowned in the knowledge of what my double had done, horrified at the truth of her deeds. The death and blood dished out by her hand made me want to rip free of this joining of souls, deny everything. It was too much. How could I retain my own identity if I had _hers_ layered over it?

"_But this is who you are, who you _really_ are… when all pretences of 'virtue' are stripped away. Do you think your friends will ever look at you the same way again, knowing that _I_ lurk beneath the surface? Behind that flimsy mask of morality is the face of a killer. Behind that façade of virtue is _me."

The flood of atrocities battered me, bearing me down into the depths. The more I struggled against them, the deeper I was pulled. My lungs screamed for air even as my mind strove to retain some sense of self…

"_Well, now it's your turn. I'm not going to lock you down in the dark for good… no. That would risk you surfacing again. I'm going to tear you apart. I was here first, you see. Virtue… morals… these _things_ you learned and chose to cling to as you grew older… I have no use for them. I never did. This life is _mine _now._"

Pain. Hate. Power and isolation.

"That_ is the life you want?" _I blurted, aghast. "_That?_"

"_It is preferable to nothing!_"

I amassed the memories I knew belonged to me. As I did, I could feel them swirl about me and slow my descent into the abyss.

"_Is it preferable to _this?"

I let my side of the flood loose, smashing it into her consciousness as hers had struck mine. Memories flashed past. Shining, cherished memories. Things that had made me smile. Things that had made me laugh. Happiness and joy and friendship, comfort and love and camaraderie... everything that made me think that life, with all its hardships and trials, was worth it in the end.

With each recollection I felt myself buoyed up…

"_You will destroy me, then_?"

I could, I realised with a start. Just as she had said she'd destroy me, I knew I could do the same to her. I could do away with Mellorin, and every aspect of her that infected me. Every shadow, every shard, every evil.

"_The Quest of the Avatar, Elora. You could finally finish walking that path. What's the point of this journey if it never ends? Admiring the scenery while never reaching the ultimate destination?_"

"_Why does it sound like you're encouraging me to end you_?"

"_I'm curious. You are supposed to be Britannia's example of Virtue… and here you are, with the power to achieve the perfection that is the Avatar's goal. If you refuse to destroy me, you're a sham._"

I floated just under the surface of the waters. Above, filtering through the waves in broken patches, warm golden light shone. My very soul yearned towards that light.

"_There are ways… and ways to destroy you, Mellorin. _This_ way is magic. It's no different to what the dragons of Atarka tried to achieve. There's no effort to it. To defeat you this way would make me undeserving of the goal. It would undermine the whole point of the—_"

Bitter, mocking laughter interrupted me. "_No effort!_"

Memories were thrown in my face, ones we both shared. Struggle, pain, sorrow, in a wave that near swept me away with its force.

"_Undeserving!_" Fury seethed in her voice._ "We endure all this and more… don't we deserve _something?_ But no! There is no rest. There never is! There is always more of the same, and additional bruises to bear. The Quest of the Avatar is Forever, but don't you ever want it to end? Don't you ever yearn for release? For rest? Or are you seriously willing to do this your entire life, without reward or respite?_

"_This is the life _you_ want?_"

I almost did it. Caught between the cold, dark swell below and the warm, inviting light above, I almost broke the surface and destroyed that other life.

"_No_," I said at last. "_I don't want to live this way forever. I do want it to end. There are times I want it to end so badly I can taste it. But… it will not end like this. It will not end here._"

I turned my back on the light dancing across the surface of the waves, not without regret, and plunged down.

"…w_hat are you looking for?_"

"Myself…"

* * *

It was dark. And my chest hurt.

I stirred feebly, reaching to feel how bad it was. There were bandages wrapped tight around my midsection. Cracking an eye open, I tried to work out where I was from the unadorned stone ceiling and walls. A pair of candles guttered on a rough table and there were no windows. The bedroll I was stretched out on was lumpy and the blanket, though warm, was coarse.

I almost jumped out of my skin when Shamino bent over me.

"Sorry," he said, subsiding onto a stool with a faint smile. "It's about time thou woke up."

In a flash, I remembered everything. I remembered finding him at the Bee Cave near Yew, sending the Emps into a deep sleep, transporting him to a prison on another plane… I remembered…

…_a daemon walked into the cell, its burning eyes resting on Shamino with something like hunger and contempt. I quirked a brow as the ranger pulled hard at his chains. His efforts served only to further cut into his own wrists, which renewed their sluggish leaking of blood._

"_Is torture what thou hast in mind?" he demanded. Even in anger his voice was quiet, I noted._

"_Torture?" I shook my head. "Shamino, if torture was what I had in mind, I'd have done it myself. And with great enjoyment, I might add." I motioned to the daemon, which grinned, stepped forward and sank one of its claws deep into the ranger's chest while he arched back against his bonds and screamed—_

I jumped violently, half-rising as I tried to shake my head clear. A shudder of loathing shook me from head to toes.

_Not me. _Her._ Not me… _

Cautiously, I tried to see if he was the real Shamino or a daemon. It was only when I noticed the hammering of my own heart that I realised why it wasn't working, and by that time he'd gone to the door and called something down the corridor.

"Don't sit up," he warned, coming back swiftly. "Jaana will get angry. She wouldn't even let thee be taken off the Isle of the Avatar."

I lay back slowly, still trying to think of something to say. All the appropriate questions, like "Where am I?" and "What happened?" felt much too obvious.

"Is… is everyone all right?" I asked.

Shamino hesitated before answering. "Of our friends… all will live, now that we know thou'rt recovering. But with the war… there will be casualties."

"And you? You were rescued, obviously?"

The look this comment earned me was strangely measuring. "That odd woman… Kra'lysie? She and Dupre used that bracer thing to reach me and bring me back."

I reached automatically for my wrist, then looked at both of them in astonishment to confirm it. The _aeth'raesh'al_ had been removed, but bandages swathed my right wrist.

"_Lord British died on his knees, you know," I said, watching Iolo's jaw tighten. "I always thought he'd take it standing, like a man, instead of some cowardly—"_

_The crossbow's string slammed back and I cried out as the bolt speared all the way through my right wrist, the point sinking into the earth beneath. I reached automatically for the wound with my left hand, but Iolo grabbed it, pushed it down and held it there with one booted foot._

"_Virtues," I gasped, when I could form a coherent thought through the pain. I laughed then, looking up at Iolo through tears of pain. "I never thought you'd have the balls to do something like that, Iolo. Always the compassionate one. The merciful. Where's that mercy now, Iolo?"_

"Dupre says she bullied Arcadion into telling her where I was." Shamino went on, snapping me back to the present. I grasped at his words like they were an anchor to reality. To identity.

"Kra'lysie's all right, then?" I said, relieved. The last thing I remembered of her was…

…_a crunch as my sword hilt connected with her skull—_

"Art thou?" Shamino asked, frowning as I put a hand to my brow and growled softly. Any answer I might have given went unsaid as the door opened and Jaana entered with Iolo. Jaana immediately checked my wounds and asked a few questions, while Iolo exchanged one of those 'long silent looks' with Shamino.

"Thou shouldst sleep," Jaana said after finishing her checkup. "It's the best way to heal, after all."

"I'll sleep after someone tells me everything I missed," I retorted snippily. "You're all starting to treat me like you did when I first became undead, so let's get that over with right now." I paused, remembering that neither Shamino nor Jaana had been with me at that point, then shook my head and continued: "Do I have to do anything to prove I'm not Mellorin?"

"Thou… uh… dost not have to prove anything, Elora," Iolo said. "Kra'lysie said she could tell the truth of who thou wert by looking at thee."

"Oh. Good." I scowled at him. "So why were you and Shamino looking at each other like that?"

Both men shifted uncomfortably. "Like what?"

"Like… like _that_! You know…" I eyed them in turn.

Iolo looked embarrassed. "It's… Dupre. And… uh… Kra'lysie."

"Oh?" I blinked as Jaana coughed delicately. "Oh! Well. Right! How about we… leave that bit out for now, and you tell me what _else_ has been going on."

Iolo scratched his beard. "Thou wilt forgive me if I haven't put all this to song yet. Things have been rather busy. The Atarkan forces, for the most part, have been returned home. Those on the Isle of the Avatar, lacking the daemons' leadership, surrendered and begged quarter. With Geoffrey and Lord Draxinusom commanding the Britannian forces, the outworlders fighting by their sides and Kra'lysie using the teleportive magics of the _aeth'raesh'al_, each remaining force of Atarkans hath been confronted. Some surrendered, especially in the face of the dragons helping us, and some tried to stand their ground but didn't last long.

"It's only since today that the allied outworlders have begun to be transported to their respective homes. We started with the enemy soldiers, and ran into trouble right from the start. Not with them, but with those nomads. The _mezzini._ They wanted to just kill them all. Some of them, especially Jae'tar, have very large grudges. Fortunately, those telepathic cats have been helpful in keeping everyone in line.

"There hath been surprisingly little antagonism between the goblins and humans of Tarna. I think fighting on the same side hath given them something to think about. Oh, and Nystul was speaking to Bishop and Prince Felix about their little blackrock problem? Dost thou think the Horn of Praecor Loth and Mors Gotha's spellbook might help them?"

I blinked. "It's possible. I had to go through quite a bit in order to make sure the Horn would make a big enough noise though… and that's just where Castle Britannia is concerned. Who knows how loud it'd have to be for the entire world?"

"Still, it'd be worth a try, wouldn't it?" Iolo asked, and I nodded emphatically.

"Lord British, though he's still recovering from his own ordeal, is being kept busy speaking with those who want to make Britannia their new home. He wanted to stay here and help tend all the wounded with Jaana and our other healers, but Jaana forbade him to exert himself any more than necessary, and thou knowest what she can be like. Not even our liege will cross her when she's in one… of her… er…" The bard trailed off as Jaana smiled serenely in his direction. "Aye," he went on, clearing his throat. "What else?

"The daemon portal at the Shrine of Humility hath been sealed, and reports tell that the undead forces around Stonegate have dispersed." He glanced at Shamino, who shrugged.

"Thou knowest more of what's going on than I do," the ranger said quietly.

The bard leaned against the wall and frowned thoughtfully. "We have… the other body close to hand," he said at length. "Next room over, actually. The body thou wert a liche in. Kra'lysie said we could burn it, but we didn't want to chance something going wrong and… well, we just weren't sure whether thou wouldst still be…"

I inspected my hands, reached up to feel the familiar heavy length of my hair… Alive. I put a hand to my throat, but couldn't feel the Ankh amulet there.

"They're on the table," Iolo said, nodding to where the candles glowed.

"They?" I sat up, ignoring Jaana's exasperated sound, and saw both a gold Ankh and a black one. I picked up the first without hesitation, fastened it around my neck and quickly lowered my head to the pillow before Jaana's withering glare could bore hole into my face. The amulet was cold against my skin at first, but warmed quickly.

"What about the other one?" Shamino asked.

"_It means something, doesn't it," I said, examining the amulet. "I'm a… copy. I get that. A 'dark' copy. But why would that affect a necklace?"_

"_Have you never suspected that your Ankh is more than just a necklace, Master?" Arcadion asked._

"_Who cares? It's an Ankh. I'm not the Avatar, no matter what _he_ might think. He just doesn't get it!"_

"_You're quick enough to claim you're the Avatar to Elora's face."_

_I snorted. "That's just to keep her off balance. I'm not the Avatar. I'm just the reason she exists." I held up the Black Ankh between my thumb and forefinger. "The darkness beneath the shining veneer of Virtue. Maybe this is what you get when you scratch off all that gold leaf…"_

"Leave it for now," I said, aware of the silent stares. "Half of me wants to get rid of it, but perhaps I should keep it. As a reminder."

"I'd just as soon forget," Iolo muttered, his face darkening.

Silently, I echoed his words. Aloud, I asked, "What about the Crown of the Liche King? The Lifestealer?"

"The crown Lord British is taking care of," Iolo said. "I'm not sure what he intendeth to do with it, but I wouldn't be upset if he had it melted down and turned into horseshoes. Kra'lysie gave the Lifestealer to Jae'tar and said she was returning it to the protection of their people."

"It sounds like everything's been taken care of," I said, wrapping myself more comfortably in the blanket. I was starting to feel warm and sleepy.

Jaana smiled. "I half expected I'd have to tie thee down, Elora. So much is still happening, but thou'rt going to just let things be taken care of without thee?"

"I think I deserve some rest," I said, grinning back. "With your approval, druidess?"

"A rest soundeth good," Iolo declared, glancing back briefly as the door opened to admit Julia, Katrina and Mariah. "Perhaps even a holiday."

"Unless that holiday doth include a long ocean voyage, I wouldn't count on it," Julia said. The serious tone of her voice got everyone's attention. "Glad to see thou'rt awake," she said first, to me. Then, apologetically, she added, "Katrina and I were helping Mariah to explore the caverns here. We found these."

I levered myself up with one elbow and took the proffered document. The others crowded around as I unrolled it and spread it across the blanket. It revealed a navigational map.

"A sea chart," I said slowly. "Peering closer, I read the runes near the bottom aloud: "'To the Serpent Isles'. All right." I glanced up at Julia. "This is cause for the grim face?"

"It was in a room full of things belonging to Batlin," Mariah put in. "Along with this." She held out a much smaller scroll. The edges of this ones glowed with a faint, magical aura. "It's safe," she added when I hesitated. To Iolo, the mage said, "Thou… wilt want to see this too, Iolo."

I took it, glancing once at Iolo's worried face. His wife Gwenno had been on an expedition to the Serpent Isles. She'd departed over a year ago now. A single pull untied the ribbon which bound the scroll. At once, the glowing parchment lifted into the air, writhing as though caught in a strong wind. Red light filled the small room and the Guardian's voice sounded from the walls themselves…

"_Batlin: In the unlikely event that the Avatar stops me from coming through the Black Gate, I command you to follow the unwitting human female Gwenno to the Serpent Isles. There I shall outline my plan to destroy Britannia._"

* * *

I drifted in and out of sleep for the next few hours. My dreams were uncomfortably vivid, and I often woke without being able to tell whether the things I'd seen had been actual memories or nothing more than nightmares. I was too tired and sore to try and make sense of them, and half of me didn't want to look more deeply into Mellorin's version of events than I had too. Even so, when I took the time to think back, her memories overlapped mine and were impossible to ignore completely. It was like trying to look out at the world through a pane of tinted glass. Perhaps even two panes… each a different colour.

I gave up after a while and got up. The only clothes in the room, besides the cotton shift I was wearing now, were the leather trousers and boots Mellorin had been wearing. There was no shirt.

I tugged each on in turn, gritting my teeth as the effort pulled at my wounds. I tucked the shift into my trousers, hoping the effect didn't look too out of place. With luck I wouldn't run into anyone… But then, I didn't intend to go far. I had to put some daemons to rest before leaving with Iolo and Shamino to take Batlin's message to Lord British.

In the next room, like I'd been told, was the body I'd inhabited as a liche. It was the first time I'd actually seen it in full, and it wasn't a pretty sight. I leaned against the closed door and just stared at the wasted shell for what felt like an age. The corpse was a withered husk, an unwholesome grey colour, and bore many rips and tears in its dead flesh.

"Not very attractive, is it?" Kra'lysie's voice came from the corner, and I jumped.

"Will people stop _doing_ that?" I demanded, trying to calm my racing heart.

The dragon-woman smirked. "You're too used to being able to see in every direction and sense the presence of others, Avatar. You'll have to reaccustom yourself to being merely human again."

"It's over, then," I said, staring down at the body. "Somehow I thought there'd be more to it." I chuckled a bit. "Even now, I half expect… her… to jump up and try to strangle me, or blast me across the room."

"I could blast you across the room if it'd make you feel better."

"Thanks," I said dryly, "but it wouldn't be the same. What are you doing in here, anyway?"

She tilted her head. "Those were some interesting dreams you were having. This was the closest place I could listen in without looking obvious about it." She came closer. "So. What did Arcadion accomplish? You're not Mellorin, but I never saw what Elora looked like before she became undead. Who are you?"

I opened my mouth, closed it, then tried again. "I'm either Elora with Mellorin's memories, or Mellorin with Elora's."

"Hm." Golden eyes studied me. "That answers my first question, but not the second."

"I thought it answered both."

She snorted. "Oh please. Not another identity crisis."

"I'm Elora," I interrupted, before she could make some uncomplimentary remark on my psyche. "I know I am. But sometimes it just gets confusing. I remember doing things that _I_ didn't do, but it feels like I _did_. I remember feeling pleasure in some of those acts, and that pleasure sickens me on a scale I can't describe."

"Definitely Elora," Kra'lysie murmured. "Perhaps it will pass. Did you ask Arcadion? It was his idea, wasn't it?"

"It was. And I haven't. Yet." I considered the dragon-woman's suggestion. "Maybe it _will_ pass. Memories fade, right? So in time…" I bit back a sigh.

Kra'lysie shrugged. "I understand you may be accompanying the bard and the ranger to these Serpent Isles in search of the former male's mate. Will the knight be going with you?"

"I haven't asked him, but I expect so. Iolo's his friend. And I doubt he'd pass up the chance to hunt Batlin down." Shamino, in fact, had been more emphatic about coming than I could imagine Dupre being. Shamino had said it was because he'd missed out on _this_ adventure, as well as the whole Labyrinth of Worlds ordeal. I had a feeling there was something more to it, though.

"You should encourage him to go with you," Kra'lysie said.

"What? But I thought you and he… were…"

"Yes?"

I floundered. "Getting to know each other?" I suggested lamely.

"There'll be plenty of time for that later," she said. "He'll want to go with you, and he should. I have to stay here for a time and finish helping everyone get back home, then return to Atarka. The _tril'khai_ think the _mezzini _will do something rash now that the Guardian's armies are in disarray. They might even try to attack the capital now that Killorn Keep's fallen."

I blinked. "What? When did this happen?"

"Before we took them off Atarka, apparently. But I thought Altara said _you_ would—Avatar?"

"_I will not serve you!" I shouted. My voice reverberated from the super-heated stone walls. Sweat plastered my shirt to my skin. "I don't care what you want! I'm not Mors Gotha. I'm not your war leader and I'm not your Avatar!"_

_It matters not what you are, only who you belong to._

_The Black Sword came free of its scabbard. "You even try and touch my mind and I swear I'll bring your little tower cr—"_

I ripped myself free of the memory of pain. Kra'lysie was staring at me, but her expression told me she'd seen everything.

"Mellorin did it," I said quietly.

"Even though you possess her memories, it's clear you haven't looked at them all. Aren't you curious?"

"If you'd had an evil twin, would _you_ want to look at everything she'd been up to? Relive it as though the experience was your own?"

"All right, all right. I was just asking." Kra'lysie shrugged, then gestured at the corpse on the floor. "What were you intending to do with that?"

"I believe you suggested setting it on fire. I was going to get Arcadion to do that, but since you're here… would you mind?"

Kra'lysie smiled. "Not at all."

The dragon-woman muttered an incantation and the body was immediately alight. We made a quick exit from the room before the smoke started to swirl, and when the door was shut a second incantation filled the doorway with stone. Kra'lysie ran one hand over it.

"That should stop the smoke from leaking out. And there should be enough air in there for the fire to do its job."

I nodded, and we stood in the cold tunnel for a while in silence. I had the feeling that once we parted here, it would be goodbye for a time. She had her tasks to accomplish—tasks she appeared to be taking seriously, and I had mine. Despite her sometimes caustic nature, I knew I'd miss her.

"Thanks," I said. "For everything, Kra'lysie. We couldn't have won without your help." Holding out my hand awkwardly, I added, "I owe you. Anything, anytime. Unless… I'm saving the world, or something."

"Aren't you always?" But she shook my hand anyway. "We're even, Avatar. If not for you, I'd be wallowing in self-pity back on Ambrosia. All this would have happened without me." She shrugged a shoulder. "Armageddon might have happened, and I'd have been dead without even knowing the why of it." Her next words seemed to come with more difficulty: "Thank you."

I noticed a glittering on her wrist as we released hands and asked, "Will you destroy it?"

"The _aeth'raesh'al_? The main portion of its power has been destroyed. The looping forces of the Lifestealer, the Shade Blade and the Crown of the Liche King basically fed it more power than it could handle. It's just a teleportive device now, and that kind of thing is always useful."

"More useful than a teleporting island, hrm?"

She grinned and nodded. I didn't argue with her right to keep the bracer. Even though I saw the use in it myself, and the ability to travel not only within Britannia but across planes opened entirely new realms of possibility, the bracer had been made by her people.

Plus, despite her assurance, I wasn't too keen to lock the thing around my arm a second time.

"I guess we'll see each other again," I said, before the silence could draw out any longer.

"We will," she confirmed. "Until then, Avatar." Abruptly, she turned and walked away up the passage in a swirl of crimson robes.

I watched her retreating back for a second, then likewise turned to get back to my room. Before I'd taken a step, though, Kra'lysie's voice called down the passage.

"Avatar! One more thing. I understand you intend to free Arcadion one day?"

I looked back at her. "Yeah?"

"You may think that a promise is something to keep, even when made to a daemon, but I just wanted to remind you of something. Arcadion's connection with Life magic will not have ended once you stopped wearing the Crown of the Liche King. Remember that before you ever think of releasing him. You may have trusted him with _your_ life, but do you trust him with everyone else's?"

A lifting of her golden brows, and she had vanished around a corner.


	23. Epilogue

**The Black Ankh**

**Epilogue**

The Golden Ankh cut through the leaden waves before a fresh wind, her white sails bearing the symbol from which she got her name billowing out and her serpent pennons snapping from the masts. Great clouds of salt spray hissed up from the prow as she surged forward on her course, held steady by my magic. The skies above were heavy with the kind of dark, threatening clouds that made one think of an imminent storm, though Iolo, Shamino, Dupre and I fervently hoped that one wouldn't be forthcoming. We were in the depths of the Great Sea, and help would be a long time coming should disaster strike.

"This should be it!" Shamino shouted from aloft. The ranger was perched in the crow's nest with a telescope, sextant and a copy of Batlin's map. "This should be it!" he repeated, louder this time.

"I hear you!" I yelled back. "Do we drop anchor here?"

"I think so!"

I looked up to see the ranger clamber over the side of the nest and make his way down the rope ladder, map clenched tightly in one hand. "Dupre!" I bellowed.

A short time later, the knight poked his head up from a hatch in the deck. "Did someone call?"

"I did. Would you mind dropping the anchor?" Turning my gaze upward again, I began the long task of using Telekinesis to reef the sails. We wouldn't be needing them for another day or two, if the directions we had were accurate. "Shamino, are you sure this is the right place?"

"I know how to use a sextant," he answered, carefully negotiating his way down the swaying ladder. "We'll find out soon, in any case."

"One way or another," I added. "Just remember that if we're wrong, it could be another year before we get a second chance at this."

"Only if the legends are true!" Shamino jumped the last few steps and landed lightly on the deck, brandishing the parchment he held. "It says that these 'serpent pillars' only appear in the depths of Winter, but who's to know if it's accurate?"

"If it is, two days from now is Midwinter's day," I reminded him. "We'll see what happens. What are the other signs?"

"Um," he unfolded the scroll. "Both moons and the sun must be visible." He glared at the overcast sky. "Well, above the horizon, in any case."

There was a sudden splash as the anchor hit the water.

"I hope it doesn't rain," I said irrelevantly, concentrating on the sails. "Where's Iolo?"

"I think he's tying to keep his mind off Gwenno," the ranger said softly. "In fact, he's not the only one in a... repressive mood, I might say. Dupre hath been acting a little touchy since Kra'lysie told him she wasn't coming, and thou... well..." he shrugged. "What's up with thee, anyway? Or is it just the stress of knowing that the Guardian's trying to destroy the world, again?"

"Something like that." I gave him a sidelong glance. "What about you? You're not worried about leaving Amber behind?"

"Not exactly," he said with a self-conscious grin. "I'm more worried about leaving her behind in the company of a certain tinker and shepherdess." He let out a rather mournful sigh. "Who knows what she'll be like after a month in the company of those two?"

I gave him an amused look.

"They're determined to make sure she knows what she's getting herself into," he added, rolling his eyes. Then he paused and gave me a worried look. "Do I snore? Honestly, Avatar."

I began to laugh.

"Only when thou'rt drunk, Shamino!" Dupre shouted from behind us.

"What!"

"He's right..." I grinned. "...but then, it goes both ways."

Shamino sighed. "No more getting drunk?"

"Poor thing," I said brightly, a look of complete insincerity on my face. "No more throwing up in the mornings."

He sighed again, then grunted as Dupre clapped him on the shoulder.

"Let's make this one the last, then," the knight declared. "A hogshead each, and we can place bets on who's the first to drink the other under the table."

"What table?" Shamino asked.

Dupre waved a dismissive hand. "A few drinks and thou wilt be seeing more than tables, my friend." He started off in the direction of the hold.

"Care to join us, Elora?" invited Shamino.

"Ah, thanks all the same, but as fun as having a hangover sounds, I think I'll pass. I might go see how Iolo's doing."

* * *

I found the white-haired bard sitting alone in the cabin he shared with the other two. He was plucking experimentally at the strings of his lute, his face drawn into a thoughtful frown as he tested one melody against another.

"Knock, knock," I said, leaning against the open doorframe and crossing my arms. "Just dropped by to see how you're going. The Golden Ankh's holding position here for the next couple of days."

"So we're almost there?" he asked, pausing to twist a tuning peg.

"Almost."

He nodded. "That's good." Then he smiled. "I'm trying to think of something for when I'm reunited with Gwenno. It hath been over a year."

"Over eighteen months, actually. Oh, before I turn in, Dupre and Shamino are having a little drinking party, in case you might want to join them."

Iolo grinned. "I'd prefer to be coherent when I find my wife, Elora. Besides, if she finds out I've been drinking she'll yank out my beard."

"I didn't know Gwenno was so vicious.".

"She hath standards," he replied, somewhat loftily. "One thing she can't stand is beer on my breath."

I laughed. "I can count on you to keep an eye on Dupre and Shamino, then," I told him, gesturing in the general direction of the hold. "Wake me if there's any trouble."

* * *

Before dawn two days later, I was keeping watch on deck. All was relatively quiet. There were no real waves, and the only sounds came from the gentle lapping of water against the keel and the creaking of ropes and timber over my head. The lantern amidships had burned out half an hour earlier, but it wasn't as dark as one might expect so early in the morning. The sky had cleared just before midnight, and the full twin moons of Britannia were still visible as dawn approached.

A faint, scraping sound caught my attention and I bent over the starboard side of the ship, staring down at the surface of the Great Sea. "Bet Lor!" I whispered, conjuring a small light to better see by. Gesturing slightly, I sent the short-lived illumination down closer to the origin of the sound.

A thin layer of ice was actually starting to form on the surface of the water. It was fragile enough so that it broke when the ship moved slightly, but it was still ice. "I didn't know a sea could freeze over," I murmured to myself, just as the Glimmer spell ran out. "We might have a problem here." I hurried over to the port side of the ship, carefully avoiding obstacles on the deck. There was no ice over there, however. At least the ship wouldn't be trapped.

An hour slipped by and a filmy mist started to form in the air, causing the moons to look hazy and mysterious. The fog got thicker as time passed, so when the sun rose as an indistinct, golden blur in the east, the very air seemed to light up around the ship. With moons and sun present, silver and gold tints raced through the mist like glittering threads. I had little time to appreciate the sight, however, as the ship suddenly lurched forward.

"Great," I muttered. "Now what?"

The ship again jolted, dragging against the anchor. There was a sudden, wooden tearing and I realised that the side of the ship where the anchor's chain hung was about to be torn away. Stumbling as a third pull rocked the ship, I jumped over a pile of ropes and reached back over my shoulder, tearing the Blacksword from its scabbard. With a single, precise swing, I whipped Arcadion around in a horizontal arc and sheared through the heavy chain.

"Oh, very nice, Master," the daemon said sarcastically as I returned him to his sheath. "What next? Will you use me to help prepare a salad for today's lunch?"

Free, the ship began to move. Swinging to the starboard, she drifted directly into the ice that had formed on the water as if she had a mind of her own. I let out a strangled gasp and ran for the forecastle, certain the ship would spring a dozen leaks if we hit the ice.

There was no need to worry. A wide path of calm, grey-blue water cut through the thick bank of ice and into the fog. The Golden Ankh sailed down this winding channel without my direction, keeping an even distance between her keel and the ice on either side.

"What's going on?" Dupre's voice demanded from the hatch. "I felt a jolt!"

"It's ok," I called back. "You might as well come up here, and bring the others with you. Something's going to happen."

* * *

The four of us watched in silence as two vast, cylindrical forms emerged from the sun-and-moons-lit fog. Many times higher and wider than the mast of the ship we sailed in, the pillars rose one on either side of what appeared to be the end of the icy channel. Black, yet overlaid by a silvery sheen, they were each encircled by the sinuous form of a serpent with dark, frost-blue scales. The thick coils of the stone reptiles twined around the columns from base to summit and it could have been a trick of the light, but I could almost swear I could see their tongues flickering from their mouths. As we got closer, I thought I could hear them hissing.

Then a great light took shape between the pillars. Brighter even than the sunlight reflecting off the ice around the ship, the silver-white flickering hovered at the very end of the watery path we were sailing down, and the Golden Ankh bore straight for it. It suddenly seemed to register on each of us that this was the gateway to another place, and that we were about to leave Britannia for who knew how long.

"I'm coming, Gwenno," Iolo whispered from just behind me.

"I'm coming, Batlin." Dupre's voice, though just as soft, grated from between clenched teeth.

A strong wind started to blow across the deck as Shamino spoke. "I'm coming home," he seemed to say, but I couldn't feel sure.

The light blazing in front of us was almost touching the prow, and it was my turn. Staring directly into the almost blinding gateway to another world, I said, "I'm coming, Guardian. Ready or not."

_"And we went onward without looking back,_

_Only dimly aware of what lay before us,_

_Though unafraid because of she who led us;_

_She who wore the golden Ankh."_

--From the diary of Iolo Fitzowen

-FIN-

ENDNOTES AND ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

Ye Virtues, I can't believe I've finally finished this thing. Did I start it in 2000 or 2001? Anyway, the last book went in a very different direction from what I'd originally planned, and I fully intend to upload what 'outtakes' I've already typed to my site so people can get an idea of 'what might have happened'.

The epilogue actually predates the majority of the last book of TBA. :)

I think my biggest mistake in this fic was the constantly growing cast of characters. It became hard to keep track of them, and I was often questioning whether I should give one or the other more 'air time'. This was made doubly tricky because of the First Person Narrative, which means I can't go see what so-and-so is doing unless I had a reason for Elora to jog over there to find out. In the end, I decided to stick with the main characters as much as possible, but still try to ensure that _everyone_ was involved in the final fights. At least my character list isn't as monstrous as the Wheel of Time saga. :p

BIG THANKS to all those who have helped edit and nitpick this lil' fanfic over the years. Particular thanks to Tailrace Dragon, who put up not only with my sometimes odd spelling and grammatical structures, but also with my continued attempts to hunt him down with a butterfly net. ;)

Thanks also to the Dragons who helped me out while TBA was still young, namely Nightfire, Goldenflame and FlameBlight. :)

Finally, a massive 'thank you' to everyone who's ever commented on my writing. Your kind words and constructive criticism have been my inspiration to keep putting pen to paper (or finger to keyboard), and a constant encouragement in my creative efforts. Thank you. :)

Hope you enjoyed reading The Black Ankh as much as I enjoyed writing it. And hope the end was worth the wait. :)


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